


Brothers

by Black_Hawk



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Hawk/pseuds/Black_Hawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm right here." Thorin squeezed Kili's hand. "You're home. I found you in the Wilds." But where was Fili?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Chapter 1: Awakening**

Kili shifted in his sleep, and a distant pain in his side threatened to fully wake him until he felt the furs of Fili's shoulder against his forehead. Scooting closer to his brother's side, he relaxed into his warmth and the pain faded. He was safe. It was time for sleeping, not for waking.

He awoke several more times, yet each time he sensed his brother and drifted off again. A quiet part of his mind whispered of the passage of time, but it wasn't until he heard his uncle speaking in the distance that he cracked his eyes open. What was Thorin doing in their camp?

Blinking against the harsh daylight, he licked his sore lips, discovering that they were dry and cracked and tasted of iron. One of his eyes didn't want to blink properly, as if it were swollen and bruised. He couldn't remember hitting it the previous day, nor getting kicked by his pony...

Where was his pony? Wait, this wasn't their camp at all. He was in a bed. In a house. And Thorin's voice was coming from the corner. He was singing quietly.

Kili moved to sit up only to freeze as pain jolted through his side, spreading across his ribs. Grunting, he relaxed back into the pillows. Something had definitely happened yesterday. Something he couldn't quite remember but…

"Kili?" Thorin asked.

Kili could hear footsteps approaching. Heavy boots. Like Fili's gait. But his brother was in bed beside him. Kili reached out his hand to where he'd felt Fili's shoulder, only to find a fur pillow. Widening his eyes, he searched the side of his bed, but his brother wasn't there.

He'd been tricked by pillows and bunched blankets blockading him in place. He tried to ask where his brother was but his mouth was so dry that he couldn't make any sound come out.

Thorin's smiling face appeared above him and his uncle clasped his right hand. "Kili, thank Durin. You had me so worried."

Kili furrowed his brow and swallowed hard, forcing sound into his voice. "Where's Fili?"

A shadow passed over Thorin's eyes before he leaned out of sight. "Here," his uncle said, holding a cup of water to his lips. "Drink."

Kili did as he was asked, and the water both soothed and shocked his system. Closing his eyes as he felt it make its way into his stomach, reinvigorating his limbs, he realized that he must've gone some time without it. None of this made any sense. He'd only slept for one night. Was he dreaming?

"Uncle," he began, his voice so hoarse that he hardly recognized it.

"I'm right here." Thorin squeezed his hand. "You're home. I found you in the Wilds."

The Wilds… yes, he and Fili had been out checking their snares, and setting several new ones. Their ponies were laden with game. Rabbits and a handful of quail, and even a badger. Fili wanted to catch another to make a nice pair of boots, so they had stayed. They had been roasting the quail for supper. Laughing and making merry. They must have gone to sleep after that, but why had he woken up here?

"Your mother is resting. She has kept a constant vigil."

Kili realized that he'd closed his eyes with the effort of remembering. Opening them, he studied his uncle. Yes, his left eye definitely didn't want to open very far, and his head was now throbbing in time with his side. What in Arda had happened to him?

"Did I fall from my pony?" he quietly asked.

Thorin studied him for some time, a guarded look falling over his features before he nodded. "You do not remember?"

Kili shook his head then winced at the pain it caused. He suddenly felt nauseous and regretted drinking the glass of water. "We were trapping," he said.

"Yes." Thorin sighed. "You were."

"What happened?"

Thorin didn't reply.

Kili opened his eyes once more, a cold sensation pooling in his stomach. His hand felt the bunched up blankets that he'd mistaken for his brother. "Where's Fili?"

Thorin's eyes followed Kili's hand then darted back to his face with a strained smile. "You must rest." Thorin rose.

"Where's my brother?" Kili asked again, his voice stronger this time. He struggled to sit up, only to have Thorin force him back down. Kili let out a groan as his side erupted in agony, sending the room spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut and by the time the spinning stopped enough to open them, he was chilled from a layer of sweat and Thorin was gone.

"Fili…" he whispered brokenly, leaning into the blankets and pillows once more, closing his eyes and pretending they were his brother. He was so exhausted and disoriented that the trick worked, and he was asleep within minutes.

Across the room, Thorin filled his pipe and watched his youngest nephew drift into a fitful sleep. He and his sister Dis had spent the better part of the last week nursing the lad through fever and unconsciousness from his injuries and blood loss. As the smoke curled around his face, he prayed that they had done enough to save him.

* * *

 

Fili's wrists were raw from struggling against his ropes. He narrowed his blue eyes as he watched his captors across the flames of their campfire. The orcs were roasting the last of his and Kili's rabbits and arguing over who got which bit.

One looked over its shoulder and spotted the fair-haired dwarf watching. Smiling, it lumbered over and gnashed its teeth. "Look, it wants it some meat," it barked in its native tongue. The other orcs snorted and coughed in laughter.

Fili raised his head haughtily, unable to understand what the creature said but knowing full well when a taunt was made.

"I ask again, scum," Fili growled. "What have you done with my brother?"

The orc peering at him smiled and shifted into the common tongue. "I already told you – we had a bit of fun."

Fili snarled and yanked against his bonds. "Tell me!"

The orc hissed and lunged closer. "He wasn't much sport, so we stuck him. And he squealed like a pig before his pathetic little light went out. Your dwarf-scum brother is dead."

Fili's eyes widened as all sense was torn from the world. With a tremendous bellow, he tore his bonds and lunged for the orc.

The surprised creature barely had a chance to react before it was being strangled and slammed against a rock. Fili ignored its pathetic wails. He was no longer in control of his own body and only distantly felt the clawed hands of the other orcs grabbing at him.

Clubs were pounded against his sides but all he could feel was the thud of the orc's skull against the rock and he slammed again and again until he felt it give, like the cracking of a thick egg.

Fili barely had a moment to savor the satisfaction of his kill before something collided with his head, sending him into darkness.


	2. Lullaby

Kili worried he'd fallen into the fire, for his skin felt made of flames. Then he realized that he was the fire. He'd never really been a dwarf at all. That life had been but a fancy of his since he was really made of flames, wasn't he? Flames. Heat. Why did the ceiling always look the same?

_I see the moon, the moon sees me_

Someone was singing. A comforting, familiar voice. A lullaby.

_Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree_   
_Oh, let the light that shines on me_   
_shine on the ones I love._

The fire was ebbing. He wasn't made of flames after all… he was a person. With thoughts and dreams and a family. A mother, a brother, and uncle. But where was his body?

_Over the mountains, over the sea,_   
_back where my heart is longing to be_   
_Oh, let the light that shines on me_   
_shine on the ones I love._

He was in his body. That's where it was. Here.

The distant memory of waking earlier formed in his mind, and he remembered pain and weakness and his uncle's strained blue eyes.

_I hear the lark, the lark hears me_   
_singing from the leaves of the old oak tree_   
_Oh, let the lark that sings to me_   
_sing to the ones I love._

A soothing touch was in his hair. Fingers that untangled and combed. The heat had fled and he was left torn between cold and comfort. Everything ached. But he knew that voice, and it flooded him with love. His body wakened, and he stiffly tested his limbs.

_Over the mountains, over the sea_   
_back where my heart is longing to be_   
_Oh, let the lark that sings to me_   
_sing to the ones I love._

Kili opened his eyes. He was in his bed, and it was dark out. The barricade of pillows and blankets was still bunched at his side the way it always was when he was very small. But he wasn't small anymore. He hadn't been for a long time. Then why did he feel so little?

_I see the moon, the moon sees me_   
_Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree_   
_Oh, let the light that shines on me_   
_shine on the ones I love._

"Momma?" he asked, but his voice was so quiet and hoarse that he could hardly hear it.

Dis halted her song and the fingers in his hair stopped moving. "Kili?"

He blinked, his eyes sluggishly adjusting to the candlelight. The familiar scent of his mother's sun-dried clothes wafted over him before she ran her palm across his forehead, brushing his hair aside. She grinned as she kneeled beside the bed, leveling with him. "I'm right here, my darling."

Kili smiled and held out a hand for her, feeling as if he hadn't seen her for a very long time, though time itself seemed a concept too difficult to grasp. Dis wrapped her son in a hug, mindful of his injuries, kissing the top of his head over and over.

"You need to drink," she said, pulling away and blinking past tears. She pressed a cup against his lips and Kili drank until it was empty.

His skin was wet and the fire in the other room sounded so distant. "It's so cold."

"You've had a terrible fever." Dis tucked a blanket in around his shoulders. "I pray that this was the last of it."

Kili was quiet for a moment as the water worked wonders to unfold his confused thoughts, straightening them out and giving them a direction to go. "Uncle Thorin…"

"He's just outside," Dis said, sitting down beside her son and running her fingers through his hair once more. "We've both been so worried about you, sweetheart. I feared your fever would never break."

Kili twisted his neck to look at her. "How long did it last?"

"You haven't been conscious for days. We thought you were on the mend last time you awoke, but then infection set in."

"Where?"

"The arrow wound. In your side."

Kili furrowed his brow. Images of Fili laughing and sizing the dead badger up to his foot flashed before his eyes, but nothing of a wound. "I was shot?"

Dis was quiet as she began to slowly braid his hair. "Thorin said you didn't remember what happened last time you woke."

Kili sighed. "I still don't."

"That's all right. You're awake now. That's all that matters." She kissed his forehead.

Kili made a soft sound, his eyes drifting shut as he relaxed under her braiding. Until a thought jolted his eyes open once more. "Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's Fili?"

The braiding faltered but didn't stop.

"He's not home right now."

"Is he with Thorin?" Staying awake was becoming an effort, but he wouldn't feel truly on the mend until he saw his brother again. Home wasn't home without Fili.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Dis suggested, stroking his smooth cheek. "You have much healing to do."

She began to hum the same lullaby that he had awoken to, and given that it was what he fell asleep to as a child, he couldn't resist its soothing tendrils weaving into his mind.

"Will Fili be back soon?"

Dis continued to hum, stroking his hair, but he thought he could hear her sniffle before he fell asleep.

* * *

 

Fili's head and heart felt reversed, for it seemed that when the head pounded, the heart followed. And what the head knew, the heart denied. Kili was dead.

He groaned again, tears causing dirt to stick to his cheeks and beard as he writhed on the ground. His hands were bound again and he'd been moved, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was his little brother. The lad he'd loved since before he was born.

He remembered dancing when his parents told him that he was going to be a big brother. Jumping on the chairs and shouting. He told everyone he knew at the time, though no one seemed to understand just what it meant to him.

After Kili was born, it was a bit of a letdown, for the baby couldn't do much more than lie there. All the same, Fili couldn't have been prouder of the little one with an unruly shock of black hair who almost had the same name as him. His mother had a picture made of baby Kili, and Fili wore it around his neck in a locket and showed it off to all his friends.

He had waited so long to meet his little brother, and even longer before they could play together properly – years – and yet he had been taken from him in mere minutes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And he didn't know if he could live through his grief.

All he could see was little Kili, barely out of toddlerhood, sitting patiently on his floor, his legs splayed in a way that only flexible younglings can sit. Fili had felt his little brother's big brown eyes on his back as he continued to polish his dagger. Kili had asked him to go play outside, and Fili said he would when he was finished. So Kili waited.

Only Fili already was finished. He was making a show of his work because he knew it impressed Kili, and because he knew Kili would wait if he asked. It made him feel powerful, like Thorin, to see one who had so little patience willing to wait for his big brother.

"I'm so sorry," Fili moaned into the dirt, wracked with sobs. How could he have ever been such a cruel monster? He should have dropped the stupid dagger and run outside then and there. What he would give to have a different memory from that day.

A part of him knew it wasn't an extraordinary moment and that Kili probably didn't even remember, but all the same, Fili felt as if he hadn't loved him enough.

His guilt was threatening to choke him.

"Kili," he gasped. The orcs that heard him laughed, but Fili paid them no heed. Let them laugh. Let them kill him. He deserved no less.


	3. Screaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, I imagine this story taking place several years before The Hobbit. Enjoy! :)

The bowl of half-eaten stew on the nightstand filled the room with the scents of beef broth and vegetables, but Kili had already eaten as much as his shrunken stomach could hold. His mother had helped him sit, propped up by pillows, and was overjoyed when he had said he was hungry.

She was now in the main room, speaking quietly with Thorin. He could see their shifting shadows, but try as he might, he couldn't make out what they were saying. It didn't help that his blood noisily rushed past his ears every so often, blocking out nearly everything else. Giving up on eavesdropping, he sighed and looked down to his bandaged side.

The wound pained him, though with less fire than it had before. His left hand was cradled in his lap, for as he'd discovered when he woke up again, it was badly bruised and nearly useless. He could hardly curl his purpling fingers, and the skin on their insides was ripped. When taken with the bruises on his face and head, he knew he must look as battered as he felt.

Gingerly flexing his hand, testing its movement, he stopped trying to remember what had happened and instead let his mind wander, his ears trained for the creaking of the door that would signify that Fili was home. Maybe he was out tanning the badger hides for his boots.

Kili smirked. His brother had such a taste for furs. Not that he blamed him. He remembered the first time Fili came home with a kill. It was a rabbit and he'd been determined to make the most of it. Not only had they eaten it in a stew, but Fili had tanned the hide himself and intended to make it into a hat. Unfortunately, he wasn't as skilled at tanning as he wished, and the pelt turned out a shriveled, salted mess.

Kili had felt bad for his brother, but assured him that the next time he would –

As he clenched his left hand, a sharp, familiar pain shot through his fingers and he felt the crunch and scrape of his pony's hoof smashing his hand as it bolted in the night. But how had he fallen? Why had he been riding at night? Something had been chasing him… and he had lost his seat…

"Not yet," Dis hissed, loud enough for Kili to hear.

"Do not ask me to lie to my only nephew," Thorin responded.

Kili narrowed his eyes.

"Fili had a life before his brother, but Kili has never known a world without Fili. He was his other half. This will crush him beyond repair and he is already so weak that…"

The rest of his mother's words were drowned out by the rush of blood surging past Kili's ears as his breathing shifted to short, panicked gasps. What had she said? Why was she saying that? Fili wasn't dead. His brother wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He was… he was… he was more than his other half. He was his world.

Kili closed his eyes and screamed. Then screamed again.

Hands were suddenly at his side, resting on his back as he tried to curl in on himself, gasping for air as his eyes filled with hot tears.

"What's wrong?" Dis asked, hastily looking him over.

Kili took in a shuddering breath with a moan, tearing at his hair with his good hand and Thorin looked to his sister. "He heard us," he said quietly.

"Oh Durin," Kili choked out. "I can't breathe."

"Shh," his mother soothed, attempting to get him to uncurl enough to relax against the pillows again. "Just take deep breaths."

"I can't," Kili snapped. "I can't breathe if he… he…"

Dis wrapped her arms around Kili, her sobs blending with his as she rubbed his back. Thorin watched the grief before him, his jaw quivering. After several moments he strode out of the room.

In the kitchen, he made several cups of pine tea and was sure to add chamomile to a mug for Kili in the hopes of giving the lad a few hours of dreamless escape from this hell.

By the time he came back into the room with the tray, Dis had managed to calm Kili enough to breathe properly, but the young dwarf's eyes were latched onto his mother's as if his very life depended on it.

Thorin set the tray down then handed a mug to his sister. He offered one to Kili but his nephew didn't react.

The heir of Erebor cleared his throat. "I was on my way to join you when I found you in a thicket."

Kili's breath was hitching in his chest but he tore his gaze away from his mother to look up at his uncle. Thorin's eyes were rimmed with red.

"You were unconscious… I thought you were dead. There were drag marks through the ferns, and hoof prints. The pony was nowhere in sight and I would've thought it a terrible riding accident if not for the orc arrow in your side."

Kili managed to reign his breathing enough to speak. "Orc?"

"I know no more than that," Thorin said, looking away. "There was no sign of your brother."

Kili's face suddenly relaxed and Dis knew what he was thinking. "Kili –"

"There wasn't a body?" Kili asked. Thorin fixed his nephew with a dark look but the youngster was undeterred. "Then he could still be alive."

"No, Kili." Thorin grimaced. "You know the ways of orcs. They mutilate their prey. I found your camp after I brought you here. Though it had rained, there was enough blood on the ground to…" The tortured look on his sister's face cut him off. "Well, we'll leave it at that."

"But Fili's the best warrior in the world," Kili childishly gushed. "They wouldn't have –"

"Will you spare your mother nothing?" Thorin snapped, silencing his nephew.

Kili looked away, his expression ashamed as he heard his mother stifle a sob.

"There is no reason to hope," Thorin continued. "If Fili wasn't killed in the attack then he was tortured to death."

Dis let out a wail.

"I'm sorry, but it's true," Thorin said. "And now we must face this harsh reality." He cast a stern gaze to Kili. "Without denying it."

Kili kept his head bowed, but upon hearing his mother's sobs, he reached out his good hand for her and she latched on.

Thorin surveyed his broken family, guilt creeping into his chest over his harsh tone.

"He is with his father now." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "May they roam the Halls together and be glad that there were many of our kin to welcome them." He held the tea with chamomile out to Kili. "Now drink."

Kili eyed the mug, but with his mother clinging to his good hand, there was naught he could do. Sighing, Thorin set the mug back down. Head bowed, he strode from the room.

Kili watched his uncle leave, knowing that he should find comfort in his words, but failing, for he knew his brother would much rather be with him than their ancestors from a homeland they'd never even seen.

* * *

Fili stumbled yet again as the orc leading him yanked on the rope. Falling to his knees, he winced as his sore body absorbed the impact. The orc on the other end of the rope hissed, shouting a command in its tongue, but Fili ignored it. Mayhaps it would kill him this time, ending the torment of his thoughts and memories.

For no matter what happened around him at the orc camp or now on the trail, surrounded by their filthy kind, his thoughts were always on Kili. His memories were blurring together with imaginings which angered him, for he wanted Kili to be left pure in his mind.

He saw the toddler running about the house naked, grinning like an imp as their mother tried to put a diaper on him. The long-legged child who drove him crazy when he wouldn't answer to his name being called when Fili was babysitting him, because Kili was often too distracted by minnows or sneaking crackers or sharpening sticks to hear his brother. And the times that they played – all of the countless memories of such adventurous games that Fili honestly forgot who and where he was as they lost themselves in a world of their creation.

All of that was gone, ripped cruelly from him without reason or purpose. And now here he was, a prisoner of the orcs as he and Kili had so often pretended. Only this time, there was no brother to do the saving.

"Up!" the orc screamed at him, yanking on the rope.

Fili slowly looked up, glowering at his captor in the moonlight. Was this fiend among those who had slaughtered his brother?

Taking in the orc's irregular pupils and sharp, glistening teeth, Fili was filled with the desire to feel its skull crack under his blows. To avenge his brother. And in that moment, he found a new reason for living: killing.

* * *


	4. Broken

"I won't," Kili hiccoughed through his tears.

Dis closed her eyes, attempting to maintain her composure. "You haven't in over a day. You must."

"I won't," Kili repeated, louder. "I'll never eat again. Not so long as Fili can't."

"He wouldn't want you to starve."

"I won't eat," Kili repeated before smashing his face in the pillow.

Dis sighed and slammed the bowl of stew down onto the end table before rising and striding over to the window. Kili peeked out and saw her rigid form silhouetted by the light of sunset, and he felt a trickle of guilt over his childishness.

"Do you want to die?" she quietly asked him.

Kili bit his tongue, because more than half of him wanted to answer "yes."

"Do you want me to be alone in the world?" Dis asked, her voice quivering as she turned to look at him. "Don't you know I miss him, too, with every fiber of my being? He was my firstborn." She stepped closer to the bed. "My sunshine. He always had a smile and his eyes – remember the way they danced?"

Kili's hitching breaths calmed as he focused on his mother's words, even as they wrenched the blackness inside that was Fili's death, twisting it with cold pain.

"He was my world for five years." She clasped a hand over her mouth. "And then you were born, and I loved you just as much… but differently. As my youngest. And now you're all I have left."

Kili's dark eyes drifted away from his mother's blue, settling upon the blanket barricade on the side of his bed. He sniffled and wiped at his cheek with his good hand.

"And I can't imagine how terrible this is for you," Dis continued, approaching her son's bedside. "But I need you to try. For me. Because I couldn't bear to lose you, too."

She ran her fingers through his hair, but Kili still refused to look at her. He knew the grief in her face reflected his own, and his own was impossible to bear without adding hers.

"So will you please eat?"

The fingers in his hair moved for a few more seconds until it became clear that he wasn't going to respond. Her hand fell away, and with a quiet, exasperated gasp, she rose and her footsteps echoed as she strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Kili clenched his jaw, fresh tears pooling in his eyes and spilling hot onto his cheeks. He hated that he was hurting his mother, but he didn't have it in him to make a promise he knew he'd break. Food felt like ash in his belly, and every bite reminded him of that Fili's body didn't need food anymore. So why should he?

Squeezing his eyes, shut, Kili wept into the pillow that had been cold and moist all day. In-between his gasps for air, he could hear his mother and Thorin talking, and then a loud crash as it sounded like Dis threw something. Had he the strength, he'd throw something, too. But even sitting up was too great a challenge right now.

"No, don't," Dis gasped in the other room then the door to Kili's room was wrenched open as Thorin strode in, his footfalls resounding like thunder.

"Quiet," he growled, but the sight of his uncle looking so livid only made Kili cry harder. "Quiet yourself," Thorin snapped.

Now Kili really couldn't stop. And he couldn't breathe. Though he gasped, his lungs spasmed and choked out air before he could hold it in long enough to do any good. Before he knew what was happening, he gagged and threw up water and bile on the blanket's piled at his side.

"See what you've done?" Thorin hissed, though despite his harsh tone, he braced a hand behind his nephew's shoulder to make sure he didn't choke. Wadding up the soiled sheet, Thorin cast it to the floor while Kili did his best to breathe.

"I'm sorry," the young dwarf whispered between shaky hiccoughs.

Thorin sighed. "Of course you are. But sorry isn't enough, is it?"

"He's gone," Kili whimpered, trying to hide his face in his wet pillow once more. "I'll never see him again." His head thumped against the mattress, jarring his head when the pillow was suddenly yanked out from under him.

Kili looked up at his uncle with surprise and more than a little timidity.

"You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself," Thorin hissed. "We are _all_ mourning Fili. But you are too ill to carry on like this. You have your mother at wit's end. And I…" Thorin looked away, his lower lip trembling as he tried to compose himself with little success. When he looked back to Kili, his eyes were shimmering. "I love you too much to see you give up," he whispered in a broken rush. "Please." Thorin shifted to kneel at his nephew's bedside, clasping his good hand with both of his, their eyes level. "Please. You must do this. For us. For Fili."

Kili's breathing evened out as he watched a solitary, crystalline tear slip down his uncle's chiseled cheek. He had rarely seen such raw emotion from the older dwarf, and it was enough to jar him out of the cycle of weeping that he'd been in for a day and a half.

"Please?" Thorin repeated, his voice so quiet that it was nearly inaudible.

Swallowing, Kili slowly nodded.

Thorin smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly in a way that only his kin knew.

"That's our lad," he said, his voice shaking. "That's our brave lad."

Rising, Thorin released Kili's hand and stuffed the pillow back behind him. Wordlessly, he grabbed the young dwarf's shoulders and hoisted him up until he was sitting. Kili winced as his arrow wound was jarred, but the physical pain was a welcome distraction to the torment of his thoughts.

Thorin yanked over a chair and grabbed the cold bowl of stew, then held a spoonful out to Kili's lips. Moving stiffly, Kili raised his good arm, taking the spoon. If he was going to get through this, then the only person he could rely on was himself. Thorin smiled as his nephew took the spoon and dutifully ate a bite.

After several more spoonfulls, Kili begrudgingly realized that the food was making him feel better. He noticed his mother watching from the doorway, a blanket around her shoulders. She offered her son a weak smile and mouthed the words "Thank you" before returning to the kitchen.

Thorin followed Kili's gaze and offered him more stew.

"You have a black eye that's a nasty shade of plum, dark circles under the other one, and are as white as the sheet. It's a fright just to look upon you, let alone to see you so… broken."

Kili stopped chewing and studied his uncle's haggard features. He couldn't help what he looked like, but Thorin was right. He was causing his family unnecessary pain. All the same, he swallowed before speaking. "But it's done now," he said quietly. "I'm already broken. There'll be no mending."

Thorin's eyes darkened as he witnessed the end of childhood. "No… I won't argue with that."

* * *

Fili stilled as the orcs on watch continued to chatter around him. Though he had no way of knowing if he was right, he had heard enough of their primitive language to be able to pick out words.

_Kunol_ was rabbit, _pik_ was roast, and he was referred to as _snaga_ , which he was fairly certain meant prisoner, or worse. Yet there was one word they often said in conversation with each other that he could see no meaning for: _Goth_. The orcs didn't usually use words for abstract things. Their vocabulary was restricted to the physical and the present, as far as Fili could tell. But the word surfaced again and again.

Without a doubt, he knew they were taking him somewhere and keeping him alive for something. Though he'd lost track of time ever since learning of his brother's fate, it had to have been over a week since he and Kili were ambushed. By all reckoning of his kind, he should be dead by now.

In fact, other than a few beatings when he tried to escape after first being captured, and when he tore his bonds and killed the orc that had gloated the news of Kili's death, the orcs had essentially left him alone. _No_ , he corrected himself. It was not Kili's death the orc had gloated about. _It was Kili's murder_.

Gritting his teeth, Fili ignored the throbbing in his skull from his head wound and dehydration, and focused on wriggling his wrists once more. Scabs had formed beneath his bonds, and if he could get them to break and bleed, he might be able to slip his hands free.

Unfortunately, his plan didn't go much further than killing every orc he could until he was brought down. And he had every certainty that he would be brought down. In fact, he relished the idea, for he knew he would see his brother again in the Halls of his ancestors.

With a frustrated cry, he gave up on his wrists. His head was pounding like a war drum, clouding his thoughts. It would be useless to try to attack even a lamb in this state.

His lips were dry and cracking and his throat was parched, but he knew better than to ask for water. It would mean revealing a weakness, and that was something he couldn't do right now. Not while several of the orcs skittered past him with fear whenever they were forced to cross his path.

No. He would not strike now, nor would he rashly. Closing his eyes in the midday sun, he leaned back against the boulder behind him. He owed it to his brother to bring down as many of his killers as possible.

Most of his captors were asleep, hiding in the shade from the rays. He ought to be sleeping himself, but the mantra of his heart had woken him up from a fitful rest as it had the past few days. For with every beat of the muscle, an ancient word resounded in his skull, but it wasn't one in the Black Speech. It was _dreng_ , Dwarvish for _slay_.

Because if he didn't maintain a chorus of murder in his head, if he didn't study his captors for weaknesses at every waking hour, then his thoughts would wander to his baby brother, and he could have none of that.

* * *

"Kili… Kili… Kili!"

Kili jolted awake, sweat chilling his chest and back. Glancing around, he saw that he was alone in his room, in the dark. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that it had just been a dream. It hadn't been his brother's voice. It couldn't have been.

Because his uncle had told him Fili was dead. He knew as much because he saw the orc that…

Kili let out a surprised gasp. He remembered.


	5. War Cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments! I am new to the site and just getting the hang of things, so thank you for being so welcoming! :)

The orcs were still resting when Fili awoke. His mouth was now beyond dry, and his blood felt thick and clumsy as it coursed through his body. Water. He needed water. Lifting his heavy head, he eyed the distant stream.

His ankles and wrists were bound, but if he was quiet and careful, he'd be able to inch his way over to the stream and drink. The two orcs on watch had their backs turned. Fili brought his aching knees up under him, grimacing. He didn't know if his muscles were cramping so much from being bound so long, or from dehydration. Either way, they protested his every move.

Bracing himself with his palms against the dried grass behind him, Fili scooted the slightest bit towards the stream. One of the orcs on watch coughed but didn't notice. Smirking, Fili scooted a little farther. Then a little farther. Until…

"Hey!"

Fili froze, immediately cursing himself for the surprised look he wore when he ought to have relaxed and played it natural, as if he was still where he'd been left. But to his immense relief, the orc was scowling at the other on watch.

The two began to bicker in their own tongue. Utilizing the distraction, Fili scooted towards the stream as quickly as he could. Once at the water's edge, he lost all restraint and let himself fall onto his right shoulder, the tips of his hair dangling into the ripples. Once he could reach, he drank as quickly as he could.

He expected the orcs to notice what he was doing at any moment, so the gulps he swallowed were panicked and greedy and full of air. But he was blissfully allowed to drink his fill.

The liquid did wonders and seemed to spread throughout his limbs, thinning his blood and making it easier to flow. Closing his eyes as relief he didn't even know he craved washed through him, Fili took a moment to let the water settle in his now-bloated stomach before scooting back into position.

Just as his back touched the boulder again, one of the orc sentinels glanced back at him and hissed at what it perceived to be a fidgeting dwarf. Fili hissed back, and the creature's eyes widened before it yanked its head away and surveyed the landscape once again.

Whatever it muttered to its companion once more included the word _goth_. Fili furrowed his brow. Whatever the word meant, it had to directly do with him.

Straightening as he felt something rising in his chest, Fili let out a loud belch. Both sentinels whipped their heads around to him. Fili merely smiled.

The two orcs shared a superstitious look. Fili had been fed only the barest of scraps over the past week, and he knew they were afraid of his resilience. He had heard tell that other races told myths about dwarves and intended to feed the fears of his captors as much as he could. Though he would have to drink again soon, for now he would be seen as the crazed, sun-reddened dwarf who could last longer than any orc without water.

As the sun set, Fili shivered against the coming chill. A breeze had picked up, heralding an approaching storm. It reminded him of the night he and Kili were attacked. The last night his brother had ever spent on Middle-earth.

_The orc screeches came out of nowhere in the wee hours of the morning. Their campfire was mere embers and Fili lunged across it, intending to wake his little brother who was already moving, scrambling for his sword._

" _Orcs," Fili hissed._

_Kili readied his weapon, as did Fili, and the two shifted so that they were back to back as the cries grew louder, surrounding them. Then, just as quickly as they began, the orcs fell silent._

_Fili's blood rushed past his ears. Kili's breath clouded before him as his coal-dark eyes scanned the shadows. "Fili?"_

" _Stay – "_

_A foul screech rent the air as a grey body leapt over the two, immediately snatching a pony in its jaws._

" _Wargs," Fili gasped, even as he felt his brother slam against him as he was attacked by an orc._

_The screaming resumed as bulbous eyes and mottled skin lunged from everywhere, slashing and gnashing their teeth. He swung furiously at any that dared challenge him, and he could feel Kili doing the same behind him._

" _Daisy!" Kili yelled, his voice cracking._

_Fili followed his gaze and saw that his pony was on the ground, blood spurting from its neck wound. There was naught they could do to help it now._

" _Forget her. Fight!"_

_Kili screamed, charging the orc nearest him, his sword slicing into the gray flesh as if it were a melon and not a being. The orc squealed hideously as it was skewered, and its cries seemed to lash the others into a frenzy as one of their own was killed._

_Faster than Fili's eyes could track, the orcs were upon the pair, and it was all he could do to swing at every glint in the moonlight, be it a flashing sword or reptilian eye. Gradually, he became aware that the touch of Kili's back was no longer against his._

" _Kili!"_

_Fili gutted the orc closest to him then spun about, just in time to see the leader astride the warg ready his bow. He didn't even have time for his scrambled thoughts to form a warning before a twang reverberated the air as the arrow was released. It hit his brother with a sickening, thudding sound, like a rock landing in mud._

_Kili gasped in surprise then fell to his knees._

_Fili broke into a sprint, ignoring his own safety as he tried to reach his brother. But the orcs swarmed the fallen dwarf like jackals on a carcass, and he couldn't even see Kili amidst their excited howls and screeches._

_Kili screamed and Fili bellowed back, charging into the mass of bodies like a rogue bull._

_Growling and snarling, he hacked left and right, severing limbs and stabbing guts as he fought the creatures off his brother. The air stank with the sulfur of orc blood, and Fili could hear the leader bellowing commands as his warriors dropped like hacked ferns._

" _Kili," Fili growled, kicking an orc that approached from behind before reaching an arm out to his brother._

_Kili latched onto his hand and screamed as he was yanked to his feet, the arrow burrowing deeper into his side. With an arm around his brother's waist, Fili began half-dragging the young dwarf towards their remaining pony._

_An orc leapt in front of the pair, snarling as it readied his sword. Burdened as he was, Fili couldn't properly defend either of them. But how dare the wretched creature try to hurt his brother. How dare it block their path to safety!_

_Fili fused all of his anger into a tremendous bellow. The orc's eyes widened before it leapt out of the way._

_Not pausing to ponder what had just happened, Fili yanked Kili along to the terrified pony who had been bucking and trying to yank its reins free of the tree branch it was tied to._

" _Fili, I can't breathe," Kili gasped, weakly reaching out for his brother, as if he didn't realize his arm was already around him._

_The orc leader bellowed orders behind them and the surviving orcs let out a chorus of replying screeches._

_Fili didn't hesitate and hoisted his brother onto the saddle, wincing when Kili cried out. Fili was now level with the wound and the sight of so much blood slicking his brother's side made him blanch._

" _Kill the spare!" the leader repeated in Common Tongue._

_Fili shoved his foot into the stirrup, ready to swing a leg over the pony._

" _Bring me the princeling!"_

_Fili froze as realization dawned like ice water trickling down his neck. If he was the prince, then the spare was…_ Oh Durin. Kili. _They were targeting his brother._

_Fili immediately yanked his foot out of the stirrup and hastily untied the reins, wrapping them around Kili's limp hand._

" _Run, brother," Fili hissed. "Whatever you do, don't fall."_

_He slapped the pony's butt and the animal tore off into the night, more than delighted to put its adrenaline to good use._

_Fili turned around with a snarl, his sword raised high as he faced down the surviving orcs who charged towards him and the fleeing pony. He would not let the pass him. He would not let his brother die._

_Fili lunged, cutting down an orc nearest him, only to see one slip past far to the left._

" _No," he gasped. "Kili!"_

_An orc screeched as it charged him with a crude sword, and Fili blocked the blow, thankful for all of the torturous hours he had spent with his uncle, learning to wield a blade. The orc fell after a handful of moves, and Fili found himself staring up into the snarling jaws of the warg._

_The orc atop the creature sneered down at him, unsheathing its sword._

_Fili locked eyes with him before bellowing another war cry and charging. He only faintly noticed something swinging in the leader's other hand, and the blow that clapped him upside the head, sending him into unconsciousness, was a mistake he'd never forget._

Fili closed his eyes, attempting to shove the memories of that terrible night out of his mind. He hated himself for not stopping the orcs that hunted his brother. For not being able to defend him in the first place. Kili had the purest heart and the brightest smile of anyone he'd ever known. He didn't deserve what happened to him. He didn't deserve to have such a failure as his older brother.

Clenching his teeth in an attempt to ward off tears, Fili bit the inside of his peeling lower lip. He should have tried harder. He should have saved Kili. But now, because of his own weakness, he would never again see his little brother's shining brown eyes.

_No_ , Fili thought. _It isn't my fault. It's the orcs. They're the enemy. And I will finish what I started that night._

"Up," an orc gurgled, shuffling as close as it dared to him. "Moving on."

Fili licked his lips and leaned against the boulder as he struggled to his feet. The orc muttered to itself in its own tongue, and there was that word again. "What does that mean – _goth_?"

The orc snarled. "Scum. It is our Master. We are taking you to him."

Fili's mask of composure slipped at that and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

A Master. Who knew he was a prince. He should have known.

Not only had he gotten Kili killed, but as members of the royal line, he was now placing his mother and uncle in danger.

Would his failures never cease?


	6. Brittle

Kili awoke to the pitter patter of rain on an overcast day, and for several blissful moments, he didn't remember what had happened.

Then his side burned as he stretched, and he remembered the arrow wound, and the way the shaft had coughed all of the air from his lungs as it dug into his flesh. How he had fallen, feeling as if he'd been kicked by a horse until the wood between his ribs started to burn. And oh, how it had burned. Like molten metal.

And… and then he couldn't see the sky anymore, because it was blocked by fiendish faces. They tore at his clothing and clawed and stomped his body. He couldn't move, and something hard kept colliding with his face, beating him.

Then Fili was there, and the sky was back.

He'd been hauled to his feet and Fili parted the orc horde like a storm. Like he was made of power and light and nothing could touch him. The orcs had wilted like so many shriveled insects.

And even when he could hardly walk, even when his vision was streaked with so many darting golden lights that he couldn't see, Kili was smiling inside. Because his brother was the orcs' reckoning, and there was no stopping him.

The next thing he knew, his feet were no longer on the ground, and the trees faded into black. When the rushing blood quieted in his ears and he could see again, he was on his pony, Tristan. Fili was tying straps of leather around his wrists, and the molten metal in his side was wrenching all sense from the world.

Then Fili shouted and the pony was running, and it was all he could do to stay on while screeches and howls hounded him. He looked over his shoulder once and saw his brave brother charging the orc leader on his warg, only to be struck down.

Kili had wanted to cry out, to turn around to help Fili, but he couldn't get his arms to move, and lights kept flashing before his eyes, disorienting him, until the screeches behind him silenced, and it was just his rushing blood and the beat of Tristan's hooves.

He didn't realize he was falling until he was in the air. He screamed as his left hand was trampled, but the pony didn't stop, and with his foot caught in the stirrup, Kili couldn't escape. His clothing yanked and the breaking bushes were loud as they rushed past him and smacked his face as he was dragged. Every bump elicited more torturous heat from his side, and he tried to cry out for the pony to stop.

He saw what he realized was a tree trunk and knew he was going to hit it. Then he did, and he remembered no more until he awoke to Thorin's humming.

Kili forced himself into a sitting position, the weight of his brother's sacrifice filling his chest like mortar. When he had remembered the previous night, he had wanted to tell his uncle everything that had happened. But now that his mind was clearer, he saw that there wasn't much point, for his memories changed nothing.

He had seen Fili fall. And he had done nothing to try to save him.

Weeping echoed to him from the main room beyond his door, and he knew his mother was up. Thorin's deep voice rumbled, joining hers. With a start, Kili realized that it must be close to midday, if not past. He had slept for far too long, but he felt all the better for it. In fact, he ought to try to walk into the other room. The sight of him doing better and on his own two feet might bring his mother some cheer.

Casting aside his blankets, Kili slowly lowered his feet to the floor, wincing as his arrow wound throbbed. A part of him wondered if it hurt more now because he remembered it. Once his bare feet were resting on the wood, he waited to catch his breath and calm his heart before gripping the nightstand and rising.

It was a task easier planned than done. The moment he was upright, his vision was hemmed in by shadows and he felt faint. Forcing himself to take deep breaths as his mother had so often reminded him of late, he was able to fight through the encroaching darkness and clear his mind. Still holding onto the nightstand for support, he took a tentative step. His side felt tight, as if it was being pulled on, but other than that, it hurt much less than he expected.

He shuffled, more out of caution over how alien his own body felt than from pain, but eventually reached the door on the other side of the small room. He paused, sagging against the wall and catching his breath to recover his composure in front of his mother, whom he could still hear weeping.

"Don't allow your mind to go there," Thorin was cautioning, his voice quiet.

"I can't help it," Dis said. "It's like losing him all over again."

Kili closed his eyes. She was remembering his father who had given Fili his golden hair. Kili's own memories of the man were dim and sometimes felt like they belonged to someone else: Goodnight kisses and tickle fights, stories and shouting when the dwarf was hungry. But he knew the pain had been fresher for his brother, and agony for his mother.

"He was the spitting image," Dis continued.

"Kili has his eyes."

Kili rested his good hand on the lever, hoping that if he surprised her now, she would be distracted enough to forget her grief.

"It's not the same," Dis said quietly, her voice hoarse from weeping. "You know it's not the same. He isn't Fili."

Kili's hand froze with his lungs as he halted his breathing.

"Nor should he be. Kili is his own self," Thorin said.

"That's just it. He isn't. Not anymore. That _shell_ in there is _not_ Kili. And he never will be again. So don't you see? Losing Fili cost me everything. Everything."

A tingling sensation fluttered through Kili's chest as his arm recoiled.

"It's only been a few days. Give him time," Thorin replied after a pause.

"Nothing in the world will heal him. You know that. They were as one."

"Dis –"

"Kili should've died, as well." Her speech was punctuated with guttural tears. "If only to spare him this suffering – this crippled half-life. If only to have spared us all from witnessing his torture."

Kili let out a shaky breath as a wound much colder and much deeper than any arrow formed in his chest.

"What a wretched thing to say," came Thorin's rumbled reply, his voice sharp like the edge of a sword. "Yes, he will suffer, perhaps more than we did when we lost Frerin, but that is no cause to wish for him to have…" There was a pause and when Thorin spoke again, he was calmer. "He is a fine lad. He will do well as my heir now that –"

"He isn't Fili," Dis hissed. "Don't speak as if he could so easily be replaced."

Thorin sighed, as if giving up on trying to rationalize his sister's grief-stricken comments. "You know that's not what I meant."

An uneasy silence seemed to settle over the two siblings.

Kili looked at the bed that seemed so very far away, the back of his throat tightening. A tickling numbness spread throughout his entire body from the word-wound in his chest. He felt both weaker and stronger than before. But the one thing he knew was that he was leaning against the wall behind his mother, and that was far too close to the source of his pain.

Shoving away, Kili headed back to the bed, blood rushing past his ears in a torrent. He sank down to sit on the mattress, noticing dimly just how weakened his legs were, and the stiffness of his knees. He rested his hand on his bandaged side, his mother's words spinning through his head.

She wished he had died. She wished he had died with Fili, or better yet, instead of him. Durin knew, Kili wished the same.

He closed his eyes as his throat constricted.

As much as he wished he had not been separated from his brother, as much as he wished they could still be together, and as much as he agreed with his mother's words, he had no defenses against the raw truth of her thoughts.

He was stripped to his core, and his heart had been made brittle and pieces flaked off with every beat.

For the first time since Fili's death, he truly understood who he now was: a shadow. He was only half a dwarf while the other half was scorched beyond repair. He had no home. No mother. All he had left was his pride.

His throat constricted tighter, making it feel swollen as his eyes stung. There was only one thing he could do.

Blinking to clear his vision, Kili took a shuddering breath, attempting to glue the broken pieces of himself back together enough to remain whole for what he had to be done.

His mother was right. He wasn't Fili and never would be. Instead, he was a disappointment: a constant reminder of all she had lost. He'd caused her enough pain as it was.

Rising, Kili tugged off his tunic, grateful that he was able to use the thumb and forefinger of his injured hand. He felt the bandages around his torso, hunting out the end before unwinding it, determined to look upon his wound for the first time.

The sight of the infection-weary flesh, stitched haphazardly, most likely by Thorin, took a moment to process. But the healing hole was a part of his body now. It was fitting that he should bear scars to remind him of his brother's sacrifice.

Gingerly running his fingertips over the stitches, he tested the wound, only to hiss when he applied any pressure. But the pain didn't shoot half as deep as it had when he'd first been wounded. It would have to be healed enough.

Kili wound the bandages back in place then tugged his tunic back on. His mind was set, and his determination was his only defense against the withering of his heart.

He couldn't be the son Dis deserved, and couldn't bring Fili back. All he could do was bring his mother some closure.

* * *

The return of the mounted orc made the water that lingered in Fili's stomach chill. He cursed his remissness for not having noticed when the warg-rider had left in the first place. It must've been when he was unconscious days and days ago.

The orcs seemed weary, which relieved Fili, for it was taking everything he had not to limp from the blisters on his feet after so much walking. The grey bodies of the orcs hunched as they passed the mounted leader who inspected their ranks.

Fili's mouth felt dry as he neared the creature. The scent of rotting flesh and bacteria filled the air as the warg exhaled and Fili forced himself to not react. The orc leader looked down at him as he passed, and Fili squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, summoning all of his remaining strength to strut past the mounted fiend.

He was just past the orc when a blow landed on the back of his shoulders, knocking him to the ground. The mounted orc gurgled in laughter as it replaced its foot in the stirrup.

Fili growled lowly, only to have his bonds yanked on by an orc leading him. The mounted orc laughed even more at the sight of the dwarf struggling to his feet, at the ends of a leash. Fili stumbled along behind his captor, and contemplated yanking hard enough on the rope to knock over the orc that led him. But as much as he wanted to do so, he knew that such disobedience would earn him a beating, and in his exhausted state, he knew his recovery would take all the longer, if it happened at all.

A horn sounded, jarring Fili from his thoughts as his eyes scanned the moonscape around him. He realized the sound was coming from a hill ahead, where jagged shapes were silhouetted against the night sky. Ruins.

Clenching his jaw, Fili kept up his pace, dread curdling in his stomach over just how at home the orcs seemed upon approaching the old fortress. He was about to enter their stronghold and he didn't even have the will to attack the orc leading him, let alone to try to escape.

Putrid breath slinked up beside him and Fili realized that the mounted orc had caught up and was walking to his left. Given the commands he had shouted on the night Kili was killed, Fili knew that the creature could speak Westron.

"What is this place?" Fili growled without looking towards the orc leader.

The creature was silent for several footfalls so Fili cast him a furtive glance. The orc smiled, baring its sharpened teeth. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Fili grunted, returning his attention to the ruins as they approached, trying to place the landmark in his knowledge of the lay of eastern lands and coming up short.

"It won't work, you know."

Leather creaked as the orc peered at him.

"Whatever you're asking for in exchange for my release," Fili elaborated. "It won't work."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

This orc seemed to possess the ability to reason beyond the here and now. The knowledge caused a thrill of adrenaline to add spark to his step, loaning Fili strength he didn't truly have. He held his head higher.

"What little wealth my uncle has, he won't waste on me." He gave the orc a sly look without turning his head. "All of your scheming has been for naught."

The mounted orc merely chuckled. "You know not what we want."

"A ransom."

The orc growled, slowing his warg to a halt as the rest of the orcs slowed as well, filing into the main protection of the ruins through a narrow passage among the crumbled stones.

"You mistake our Master's wishes," the orc said, his quiet voice gurgling.

"I know a bluff when I hear one," Fili replied, trying to sound bored as he waited until it was his turn to enter.

The orc snarled, causing its warg to growl. "Idiot scum. I would kill you if you weren't our bait."

Fili had never been thankful for the tug on his wrists that pulled him forward, but he was now. The orc leading him yanked him away from the mounted leader just in time to mask Fili's surprised expression.

Bait, Fili thought, his mind filled with curses over his own stupidity.

Chanting arose around him, and Fili didn't look up from the muddied ground until he was struck by a rock. Straightening, he forced calm into his features as he realized that the orcs of the fortress had lined the fallen rocks of the path to the entrance. They stomped and clapped and gnashed their teeth: a gauntlet of nightmarish images as he was pelted with projectiles.

One struck his bicep with bruising strength, and Fili grit his teeth. He would not give in to this. He would not give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Their rocks were small enough to not be a real threat, but large enough to sting. They were holding back. And so would he.

Fili lifted his chin, only to have his forehead struck. The blow was enough to break the skin, and hot blood spilled down his face. The orcs around him chanted and cheered all the louder at the sight and scent of their captive's mortality, but Fili did not falter.

His legs were near shaking and his mind was racing through dozens of images of Thorin being lured into this trap, yet never once did he so much as blink until he was out of the gauntlet and roughly shoved into a makeshift stone cell.

There, on his hands and knees, imprisoned by slabs of limestone, Fili cracked. The ground was still moist from that afternoon's rain, and Fili sank into its cool embrace, letting out a quiet sob. Blood stung his eyes but he made no move to wipe it away.

He wanted to hug his brother and feel his heart beat against him, smell the leather and pine that had always stained his skin. To have Kili shove him away and smile, chewing obnoxiously on a bite of apple as he ruffled Fili's hair. His little brother had always teased him for his kempt nature. It had always irked him, as had Kili's lack of attention to his own appearance, hardly ever combing his hair and refusing to braid it. But right now, he would give anything to see his brother again, even if his hair was matted and full of sticks and Kili had just taken a spill in pony dung.

And Thorin…

Fili let out a shuddering whimper.

He was about to be singlehandedly responsible for ending the line of Durin.

* * *

Kili held the chinstrap chains of the bit, silencing the tinkling as he crept towards Buttercup with the bridle. The pony eyed him with interest, wondering, no doubt, what in Arda her dwarf was doing taking her up in the middle of the night. Removing the halter he had used to tie her up, Kili slipped on the bridle then ruffled Buttercup's forelock.

Double-checking that his saddlebags were securely in place and sealed as tight as they could be against the intermittent rain, Kili cast one last look at his house. The windows of the cabin were dark and he could hear his uncle snoring.

Kili had bathed and eaten that night, yet had said not a word to either his mother or his uncle of his plans to search for his brother's remains for burial. He had found it all too difficult to even look at his mother, in fact, so he had feigned sleep most of the afternoon.

Sighing, Kili leaned his forehead against Buttecup's neck. He was already winded and his side throbbed dully. He wasn't fit for travel yet, but nor could he spend another day in that house. He'd be happy if he never lay in his bed again, and he couldn't stand his mother's dour expression and Thorin's tight features. At every glance, they reminded him that he was not his brother.

Bracing himself, he hooked his left foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle, groaning as he did so. The rush of blood past his ears and the pinpricks of black dotting his vision as he recovered frightened him into considering waiting to stay.

Then he heard raindrops plopping onto the oak trees beside the corral and felt the cold moisture on his face. Tilting his head up, he closed his eyes and let the rain kiss his skin. He was alive, and that alone reminded him of what he had to do. He owed it to Fili.

Wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders, Kili patted Buttercup's neck. "I'm sorry, girl," he whispered, knowing that the pony would rather be sleeping and would regret ever leaving home once she realized that breakfast wasn't coming in the morning.

Tristan watched the pair leave with wide eyes, and Kili prayed that the other pony wouldn't whinny, betraying him. He had wandered home some days after Thorin found Kili, but Kili didn't have the heart to make the pony return to the place where he had nearly been killed by orcs and forced to smell the blood of his dead companion, Daisy.

Tristan trotted along the fence line, following Kili and Buttercup as far as he could before turning around and letting out a frustrated buck. Kili turned Buttercup onto the trail that lead out of the village, forcing his mind to focus on the scents of moist roots and earth instead of the dull throb in his side, for he had a lot of ground to cover before dawn and his uncle's waking.

Once he was discovered missing, he knew Thorin would ride out after him. But this was something he had to do alone.

The rain picked up, falling with a roar, and while he didn't welcome the thought of being soaked to the bone while still a day from he and Fili's camp that terrible night, he was thankful that the rain would wash away Buttercup's hoof prints, making him all the more difficult to find.


	7. Sunrise

Kili had never been happier to see the rosy tendrils of dawn coloring the bellies of the passing rain clouds. He had spent the night soaked and shivering, leaning down against Buttercup's neck in a weak attempt to steal her warmth. The cold had hit him with shocking ferocity, and he was forced to accept that he was much weaker than usual.

He could hear Fili practically screaming at him in his mind for being so foolish as to attempt this journey without being fully healed. Were his brother alive, he would've undoubtedly guarded his bedroom door to keep him from slipping out. Then again, if his brother was alive, he would have no need for journeying.

Kili halted Buttercup, closing his eyes in relief as the faintest sunlight caressed his cheeks. The warmth was so dim that he normally wouldn't have been able to feel it, but in his chattering sate, it was all the more glorious.

Buttercup shook her mane and played with the bit, no worse for wear. Kili envied the stoutness of ponies and the warmth of her shaggy coat.

Studying the shapes of the mountains in the distance, Kili was able to pinpoint the ridge with several orange, dying pines in the distance that he and Fili had always aimed for when trapping. Thankful that he hadn't gotten turned around in the night, he gently prodded Buttercup towards the landmark.

He couldn't feel his fingers or legs and his jaw wouldn't stop shaking, but he'd been this cold for hours and wasn't about to let it get the better of him now. Especially when the light returning to the world revealed the familiar groves and game trails that he and Fili trapped. Their camp wasn't too far ahead.

By the time the sun had cleared the eastern ridges, Kili had reached their camp. He remained seated on Buttercup for several minutes as his gaze roamed the patch of trampled grass with charred wood in the center. It looked so peaceful. No one else who came upon the place would ever suspect the atrocities that happened there.

Sighing out a crystalline breath, Kili struggled to loosen his right foot from its stirrup and stiffly swung down off the saddle, only to have his knees buckle and end up on the wet grass. He grunted as his arrow wound was jarred, and Buttercup craned her neck to cast him a curious look before setting to work grazing. Kili couldn't help but smirk at the pony.

"You're right," he whispered in a shaky voice. "I _am_ strange."

Climbing to his feet, Kili shuffled over to the long-dead campfire. Images of Fili laughing, his blue eyes dancing with the reflection of the flames filled his mind. Kili stepped over to the very spot where Fili had sat, then crouched down and dragged a numb hand across the grass, as if memories of his brother were forever locked in the green shoots.

His body shook violently and Kili straightened, blinking several times to clear his head.

_Fool_ , he could hear Fili hiss at him in his mind. _See to yourself_.

"I know," Kili whispered.

Rising, the young dwarf fumbled with the numb fingers of his good hand until he pried open a saddlebag and fished out his flint and steel kit. A small stack of fallen branches lay off to the side, left over from the night they were attacked. For a moment, Kili eyed the sodden wood, wondering at how innocent they had been to have expected to cook breakfast. To have thought they'd live to see the morning.

Gathering up the wood, he broke off the smallest twigs and made a nest before placing some charred cloth in the center as tinder. After several clumsy strikes where he cursed his numb hands, Kili managed to produce a spark that set the tinder ablaze. Blowing gently, he fed the flames moist sticks. They were hesitant to light but eventually steamed and sizzled. Before long, he had a small fire going, and the warmth had never felt so good.

Stripping off his sodden outer layers, Kili crept as close to the flames as he dared, closing his eyes as the heat seeped through his tunic. It took a good hour, but the shivers stopped and as the heat soothed him, he began to feel alive again. He noticed the choir of birds in the oaks around him, their songs warbling and chirping, cheering his heart.

Being out in the fresh air was a welcome change to his stale bedroom, and his unthawing body reminded him of just how very mortal he was. A dark part of him was tempted to fall into the embrace of the cold, but he shoved those impulses aside. His brother had died so that he could live, and live he would. Even if right now it was all he could do to drag his shredded and bleeding soul through each day.

His mother's words echoed in his mind and Kili closed his eyes. Tears stung behind his eyelids but he refused to let them fall. He couldn't blame her for grief, nor for what she'd said when she thought he couldn't hear. A part of him wanted to scold her, to lash out that she was a terrible mother for wanting to shirk the responsibility of seeing him through his grief.

But a wiser, stonier part of him understood that he was the only person alive who could help him. After the cutting pain of what he overheard, Kili never wanted to rely on his mother again. He would thank her, and return to her what he could in payment for her care, but he didn't want to owe her anything. Her rejection left his insides as cold as his out, and he would force the frigid pain into armor around his heart.

The fire snapped loudly, sending a shower of sparks into the air, and one landed on Kili's sleeve, yanking him from his thoughts. His tunic was nearly dry, but the bandages underneath were still sodden and would have to go.

Rising, he stripped off his top then unwound the linen before casting the soiled cloth aside. He peered at his wound, dismayed to see how puffed and wrinkled his waterlogged skin had become, allowing one of the stitches to tear free. The cold no longer shielded him from the ache in his side, and while he knew that losing a stitch was a bad thing, there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Tugging his tunic back on, he a dug venison jerky out of Buttercup's saddlebags and stood beside the flames, drying his trousers while Buttercup grazed around the camp. Kili's eyes wandered as he shook out his hair, attempting to dry it, only to freeze as he noticed a large swath of broken ferns. Daisy had been tethered there.

Swallowing the last of the venison despite the dryness of his throat, Kili checked that Buttercup was preoccupied grazing before approaching the spot.

The rain had washed away the blood, but the pony was nowhere in sight, and now that Kili thought about it, it was probably the sight of Daisy's blood that had so aggrieved his uncle. Side-stepping into the foliage, careful not to bump the ferns and get wet all over again, Kili surveyed the hillside. The saliva in his throat felt thickened as he spotted a hoof in the distance.

Knowing that hesitation would give fear room to arrive, Kili strode over to the hoof. He chanted over and over in his head that it wasn't really Daisy that he was looking at, but just her body. A dark voice hissed that he would have to do the same with his brother, but Kili swatted the voice away like a fly.

Upon reaching the body part, he was surprised to discover that it really was just a section of leg. Scanning the ferns revealed another leg, but the majority of the mangled corpse was at the bottom of the hillside, gutted and red.

Scavengers had done their work well, and the roaming packs had a good meal of his faithful pony. Hastily heading back to the light and life of the campfire, Kili once more tried to silence the voice that cautioned that Fili had likely met a similar fate.

Warming his hands, Kili noticed the bandage on his left hand was dangling. He yanked it off roughly, hating that his side hurt and that his hand was still so swollen that he could hardly grip his bow, much less use it. The dark bruising on his fingers matched the shape of Tristan's hoof, but at least the scabbed laceration was fading.

Daisy snorted and swished her tail, nosing something out of the way as she sought a thick patch of grass. Kili did a double-take when he realized that the thing she'd shoved aside was an orc arm, nearly stripped clean of its flesh. Knowing that his brother wasn't the only one to lose his life in the ambush gave Kili a glimmer of satisfaction.

Once warm again, he tented some branches and hanged his cloak up to dry while he began the grim task of scouting the site in earnest. He kept his eyes trained for any sign of his brother, even as everything in him recoiled at the thought of finding the remains he hunted. Yet after an hour or so, all he could find were scattered orc body parts. Something silver had glinted, catching his eye, and Kili had worried it was one of Fili's hair pieces, only to find an orcish knife in the grass.

Kicking it aside, Kili let out an exasperated breath. It seemed Thorin was right. Fili had survived the initial ambush and had most likely been tortured to death elsewhere. He would have to ride on and find signs of another camp. Most likely east.

Kili kicked out the fire and grabbed his cloak. He took a step towards Buttercup only to falter as the weight of what he was doing wrapped around him like a heavy chain.

"I can't do this," he whispered to the wind. "Fili… I... Yes," he scolded himself. "Yes, you can. And you will. Because Fili would do it for you."

Swallowing past the tightness that had knotted in his throat, Kili returned to Buttercup. She'd only had a few hour's rest but had fed on damp grass. The orc horde wouldn't have camped too far off, so the ride wouldn't be difficult.

Fastening his cloak back around his shoulders, Kili stiffly climbed back into the saddle and prodded Buttercup towards the rising sun. Mist was climbing all around him as the grasslands dried out, and combined with the bejeweled droplets of water left on the ground, the effect was hauntingly beautiful. Kili tried to memorize the scene, wanting desperately to override his previous memories of this place.

* * *

A stale crust of bed and what smelled to be a rancid piece of animal fat were tossed into Fili's rock cell. Though he was starving, the fair-haired dwarf made no move for the food. He knew it would more than likely poison his stomach, sending him retching for hours. Instead, he returned his attention to the outside world.

The sun was shining, evaporating the moisture on the ground in dreamy tendrils. His prison was made of rubble slabs stacked together, and though the stones were too heavy to move on his own, there were slits at nearly every corner so he could see out.

The previous night had been the worst yet. The rain had returned and Fili had lay in the mud, bound and shivering as memories of home tortured him. When he thought of his mother's face, he swore he had felt his heart clench so tightly that it stopped.

She probably thought that he was dead, unless a message had been sent that he was a captive. Either way, she would know by now that her youngest child had been killed and that Fili couldn't save him. He wouldn't blame her if she hated him. He hated himself for failing his little brother.

Ironically, that failure coated him with enough sick inside to keep him distracted from the direness of his situation all this time. Though he was loathe to admit it, Kili's parting gift had been grief and guilt that outweighed any taunt or pain at the hands of the orcs. His brother was all that mattered, and nothing the orcs said or did could bring him back, which made them insignificant in his mind. Even if he did want to kill every last one.

"Better eat," the orc outside his cell hissed. The snores of his dozing comrades echoed around him as the rabble rested in the shade. "The Master is only a day or two away. He will want you at your strongest."

Fili lolled his head towards the orc's voice. "I highly doubt that."

The orc was quiet before continuing. "The strongest branch breaks the loudest."

Fili stared ahead, trying desperately to ignore the wave of anxiety that bathed his stomach. So it was to be torture then. A plan undoubtedly borne out of some heathen belief that his cries would hasten his uncle, like a wolf to a snared rabbit's screams… or better yet, a hunter imitating the cries of a rabbit.

He knew Thorin would have pieced together what happened by now and come searching for him. It was only a matter of days before he caught up.

Closing his eyes, Fili clenched his jaw. The cold and wet was seeping his strength as quickly as he could replenish it without proper food and drink. He was fighting a losing battle.

Losing…

Fili opened his eyes as he realized his one remaining course of action. The last thing he could do to put an end to this madness and spare his uncle's life. He could die. For the orcs couldn't use his tortured screams to lure the heir of Durin if he were dead.

* * *

Kili was wishing he'd taken the time to more thoroughly dry his clothing when he reached what appeared to be an abandoned orc camp that noon. He was wary enough as it was without the added suffering of damp –

The dwarf shakily dismounted and approached something sticking up out of the mud at the base of a rock. The rain had washed away nearly all the footprints, leaving only vague indentations and a clear, trampled path betraying the direction the orcs had marched.

Scanning the area yet again to ensure that he was alone and hadn't missed his brother's corpse, he crouched beside what appeared to be rope sticking out of the mud. Tugging it free, Kili studied the knots and shape of the cord that had been cut off of its victim. The looped pattern was the same as what he had used in the past to hobble a pig.

Furrowing his brow, he turned the rope over in his hand before rising, eyeing the location beside a large rock. Peering behind the boulder, he found flattened grass, as if the orcs had slept in the shade, and several bones carelessly cast about.

Not just any bones. Rabbit bones.

Kili grit his teeth as he realized the fiends had been feasting on his and Fili's catch.

Crossing back over to Buttercup, Kili stroked her cheek then led her to the muddy path the orcs had made. It stretched as far as he could see, heading east.

Buttercup nosed the rope in his hand, just in case it was food. Kili pulled it away from his pony and narrowed his eyes as a gust of wind swept across the grasslands, tossing his hair back over his shoulders.

"I was gone," he mused aloud. "They had no further threats… so why not have their sport here?"

Biting his lip, he did another loop around the camp, raking the area with his eyes yet still only able to find leftover bones and a pile of what looked like dung.

He once more turned east, the muddied rope in his hand making his arm tingle. Because if Fili was bound when they made camp after the ambush, and his body and bones were nowhere to be found, then the orcs had kept him alive for several more hours. Or, judging by the length of the trail before him, days.

A hope formed in the back of his mind like a rising sun, though it was such a delicate thing that he dared not focus his thoughts upon it enough to even give it words.


	8. Hunting

Thorin was a whirlwind in the kitchen as he filled his pack with non-perishable food, accidentally knocking a bowl off the counter as he did so.

"It doesn't make any sense," Dis said, following him in. Her hair was unkempt and ratting, for she hadn't tended to it in days.

"It makes perfect sense," Thorin replied, stuffing jerky into his bag from the larder.

"We haven't even seen him get out of bed, much less –"

"No one's seen him. That's the point." Thorin faced his sister, cinching his pack shut. "A pony's missing… along with his cloak." He slung the bag over his shoulder.

"But he wouldn't do this," Dis shouted, her red-rimmed eyes shimmering. "Kili wouldn't run away. He wouldn't abandon me."

"You said yourself that he is no longer Kili. You have no idea what he may have in his head – neither of us do."

Dis bit her thumbnail, surveying the mess of a kitchen as if noticing the chaos for the first time. "He's weak… and injured." Her frightened blue gaze sought that of her older brother. "Thorin, what if he's…"

"Kili is strong. I very much doubt that." He turned his back to her as he stepped to the door. "But I do not trust him to be perfectly fine if he is not home by now."

"Maybe he got lost," Dis offered.

Both knew it was a lie, but Thorin pretended it wasn't for the sake of his sister's shattered heart.

"It is possible his fever returned and disoriented him," Thorin said.

Dis nodded, chewing on her thumbnail again.

Thorin rested a hand on her shoulder. "I will bring him home."

When his sister failed to acknowledge him, Thorin stepped out the door.

"Thorin?"

He paused, blocking out the setting sun's light in the doorframe.

Her voice was distant. "I'm going to be alone now."

Eyeing the messy house, and his sister's unkempt state, Thorin's shoulders sagged. "Stay with the neighbors. I promise to return as swiftly as I may."

Dis only gave the slightest of nods, but it was enough. With one last look, Thorin closed the door and approached his tethered pony. Letting out a shaky breath, he stretched his neck and shoulders. Guilt gnawed at his stomach.

Though he had not lied to his sister, he had kept one fact secret: Kili had taken his weapons.

* * *

Kili stumbled, tripping over his feet as he dismounted, scrambling to inspect the second orc camp in the fading sunlight. His heart pumped frantically as he scanned the ground for large shapes and once more failed to find a body.

Buttercup itched her face against her front leg, longing to be rid of the bridle. Her rider whipped his cloak over his shoulder as he paced the camp, pointing to every orc artifact he found, dictating his hunt to his pony.

"Bones, bones, bones…" He dashed over to a boulder and hopped atop, adrenaline lending him grace. "Fish and rabbit. But no brother!" His voice squeaked and he laughed, watching Buttercup for a reaction, but the pony merely closed her eyes, resting a back leg on the tip of her hoof.

The golden light in the back of his mind, the delicate hope that he had been too afraid to look at was growing in intensity. He had told himself over and over to ignore it, for it would surely betray him, but right now, as the sun set, Kili latched onto the dangerous thought and held tight. It was all he had.

Hopping back down, Kili scanned the drying ground, looking for rope, or anything that even remotely looked like rope, because if he could confirm that –

_Yes, there!_

Dashing over, Kili skidded to his knees beside a length of twine. Picking it up, he grinned broadly at the same knot pattern as before. Someone's legs had been bound here while the orcs hid from the sun. Someone who was marching with them, for the ropes were cut.

"Fili," Kili gasped, his eyes watering from forgetting to blink. He glanced at the setting sun behind him and cursed its dying rays.

There was still a chance that the orcs had killed his brother at the next camp, or the next. But the fact that he'd been kept alive even a day bolstered him, for the enemy was simple, and if they didn't torture Fili to death as soon as they could, then they wanted him alive for some reason.

Squeezing the rope tightly in his good hand, Kili climbed to his feet, wincing as his legs ached. His backside was sore from so much riding, and as his adrenaline waned, his limbs and chest felt heavy. He would have to rest, no matter how he wanted to push on. And one glance at Buttercup reminded him that he was not the only one who needed sleep.

Though the pony was from a stout line, able to walk for days and gallop over great distances to escape their natural predators, wargs, he had never ridden her this far before. The both of them needed to work on their endurance, and he could think of no better excuse than hunting for further signs of his brother's…

He dared not think it. Not yet. It was still so fragile. In fact, he looked at the rope in his hands again, reminding himself that it was there and that it was real. He had spent so much time with the knowledge of Fili's death that even when evidence pointed to the contrary, he constantly tried to override it with the last image he'd seen of his brother: Fili gallantly facing down a mounted orc to buy him time to escape.

Taking off Buttercup's bridle, he let the pony rub her itchy face on his back before haltering and staking her nearby. A stream lay ahead and he washed his face and drank his fill before returning to the pony and supping on an apple and some more of the dried deer meat.

The gloaming crept over the land, and though he was chilled, Kili knew a campfire would be a beacon for any orcs in the area. In his exhausted state, he'd hardly be able to battle a pigeon.

After removing Buttercup's saddle and giving her enough rope to graze and roll, Kili lay down against the boulder where he was somewhat shielded from the wind. Pulling his cloak tight around him, he realized his side was burning and itching. He really ought to check on the healing wound, but that would mean pressing his cold fingers against his side, and that sounded far too horrible right now when he'd achieved a modicum of warmth by curling up tight.

Buttercup snorted and shook her mane as she grazed, and Kili was thankful for the waning of the moon. There would be little light to aid potential enemies in spotting his pony.

Sniffling from the chill, Kili watched the stars grow brighter as true night set in, but his eyelids were heavy. He only needed a few hours of sleep, he told himself. Just a handful, then he would continue on the orc trail.

Sighing, he reminded himself that there was still a very slim chance of Fili being alive. They had been attacked some time ago, though try as he might, he couldn't properly determine just how long ago it had been, for it felt like part of another life, or better yet, a nightmare.

It took all of the focus his tired mind possessed, but he managed to quiet his swirling thoughts enough to force calm into his tired mind.

Huddling deeper into his cloak, he closed his eyes and fell asleep to Buttercup chewing and the breeze gently tugging on strands of hair that had fallen across his face.

* * *

Thorin slowed his gelding to a halt, growling in frustration. There was hardly any moonlight with which to see the landscape. He'd already hunted for Kili by the stream and the fort he and Fili had built when they were small, but there was no sign of him. That left one option, though Thorin had dreaded it.

His nephew was in no condition to go on such a long ride, but Thorin knew there was only one spot Kili would be. He had always known, he realized, even as he had checked the stream and fort just to be sure that he wasn't heading into the cold night for nothing.

Yet Thorin didn't know the route Kili and his brother took to their hunting grounds, much less how to find it in the dark. As much as he hated the thought of resting while his foolish nephew did Durin knows what, Thorin had no choice but to dismount and make camp. He would continue at first light.

* * *

Kili awoke to jays screeching loudly nearby and cracked his eyes open to see a trio of the blue birds fighting over a rabbit bone. Buttercup snorted and he bolted upright, only to cry out as pain seared through his side. It was light out. More than light out. The sun was about to rise when he'd only intended to sleep for a few hours.

"Blast," he groaned, as much in frustration over the failure of his internal clock as with the pain he'd just caused himself. Stiffly climbing to his feet, he was forced to blink several times as a wave of dizziness swept over him. The wound in his side felt hot and the swelling in his hand throbbed, but he didn't have time for this. Not when such a brilliant light burned in his breast.

Heading over to the stream, he once again washed and drank before filling his water skins and tacking up Buttercup, who seemed perky. She fed off of his hasty actions and started walking without his say several times before he'd finished taking up, as if wanting to get a move on as much as he did. Once his gear was in place, he mounted and continued down the trodden path.

The skies were clear as the sun rose and Kili was thankful, for he didn't think he could tolerate another frigid downpour. His hope of catching up to the orcs was high, for he knew that as one dwarf on a pony, he could travel twice as fast as their pedestrian war band.

His eyes constantly scanned the horizon, for he'd never been here before. The open plains had always frightened him. He felt vulnerable and visible and much preferred the slopes and trees of the mountains where he could tuck himself away if need be.

By midday, he spotted a dark shape on the horizon, and as he approached, he realized that it had the irregular outline of stone ruins. As far as he could see, the orc path led straight to the landmark. Slowing Buttercup to a halt, he eyed the surrounding landscape, realizing that what looked to be a mere pile of rubble was actually the most defensible location on the plains.

Suddenly feeling very exposed, he dismounted and gathered up his pony's reins as his stomach tightened with anticipation. The orcs would have turned the place into a fortress, but if there was any hope of his brother being found, dead or alive, it was within those fractured walls.

Kili suddenly felt very small, and his bow and arrow felt like a toy with sticks. He had very little idea how he could possibly get close enough to the fortress to search for his brother, much less what to do if he found any sign of him. Because whether it was a body or Fili, Kili wasn't going home without him.

* * *

Thorin reached the spot where he'd found Kili's unconscious form just before midday, then oriented himself and found his nephews' camp less than an hour later. He could tell, even from a distance, that Kili was nowhere in sight, and the weight of the situation tensed his shoulders. He had so hoped to find Kili at the last place he'd seen his brother, even if the lad was lying in a heap of tears.

Dismounting, Thorin left his pony, Zharr, to graze while he approached the charred wood of the campfire. Kicking aside the top layer, he held his hands over the ash, satisfied when he felt its warmth.

Kili had been here, and had been well enough to take care of himself. Facing east, Thorin narrowed his eyes, his hand resting on the hilt of his war hammer as he scanned the horizon.

"What're you up to, boy," he whispered aloud, for though he wouldn't blame Kili if he wanted to seek revenge, there had been no signs of it until now. After the Battle of Azanulbizar, Thorin knew well of the soul-poison that living with vengeance caused, and his nephew was not the type to succumb to it.

Kili had a hard road ahead of him, yes, but even when wronged as a child, the boy would rather lick his wounds and move on. He had resilience that Thorin both admired and envied, for it was bound to lead him to a happier life than one like his uncle's, for he often felt that there was so much bitterness and grief in his heart that there was no room for wonder or faith.

Which was why he found the presence of his nephews so soothing. While others might attribute their infectious hopefulness to youthful innocence, Thorin knew better. The boys had lost their father and learned at a young age what it was to truly say goodbye and live with a wounded heart. Yet even so, they healed, and he couldn't be prouder of the fine young dwarves they had become.

No, their hopefulness wasn't born of inexperience or a lack of thought, but rather from a deep understanding that there are things no one can change, and that it is our choice and ours alone to find joy and beauty in the world and look forward to each day, despite the bad.

Try as he might, Thorin couldn't adopt their attitude, but he knew it would make them fine leaders one day.

Thorin grunted in surprise as he caught himself, as he had so often of late, thinking of his nephews as a pair instead of as one. He needed to keep his mind sharper.

Turning back to Zharr, Thorin noticed something pale on the grass. He crossed over and picked it up, realizing it was the bandage that should've been wound around Kili's torso. He turned the moist cloth over in his gloves, freezing when he spotted the browned stain of blood.

_The fool_ , he growled in his mind, swinging up onto his pony. _The stupid, stupid fool._

"I pray you're alive, Kili," Thorin muttered under his breath as he turned Zharr east. "Because I'm going to kill you."

With a gentle kick, he urged his pony into a canter and scanned the grasslands as he passed, hunting out any further signs of his nephew. As his irritation abated, Thorin prayed that he wasn't too late.


	9. A Blue Band

Kili twisted his wrist awkwardly, pressing his injured hand against his chest as he inched his flattened body closer to the brow of the hill.

He had found a small grove of pines to the northwest and had left Buttercup tethered in the shade, far from enemy view as he neared the fortress. After several failed attempts to hold his bow with the left hand, he had taken one of the ropes he'd found at the camp and lashed his swollen fingers around the weapon.

Though he'd had to bite his lip to keep from yelping in pain, he now felt much safer knowing that he could use his favorite weapon if need be. Even if his aim would be off.

The wind played with his hair as he belly-crawled further, biting his lip. He knew he ought to be afraid, but he wasn't. The situation seemed so familiar that it was almost comfortable.

When they were smaller, Fili had gone through a phase of wanting to only spend time with friends his age. Kili's existence had become a thing of horror in those years, so of course he liked nothing more than to sneak up on his brother and embarrass him with his presence. He'd slink through the woods, following the older dwarves' voices, then stalk them like a cat before popping out. Fili would always pretend that he'd known Kili was there all along, but the mortified look he'd get when Kili would casually repeat information he'd overheard, let him know Fili was lying to save face.

If only this was a pack of moody young dwarves that Kili was creeping upon, rather than a horde of murderous orcs.

Licking his lips as the winds dried him out, Kili stopped just before the crest of the hill. He kept his cheek pressed to the grass for several moments in the off chance that he'd caught someone's eye. After several heartbeats, he slowly peeked back up and gazed down at the ruins seated on an opposing hill.

He was just close enough to make out the limbs of orcs, but couldn't discern much more without getting closer, which he wasn't about to do yet. Resting his chin on the back of his good hand, he studied the scene below him. There wasn't much movement coming from the fortress and he knew most of the orcs would be sleeping or keeping to the shade of the stones. He could only see bits and pieces of the inside and tried not to feel too disheartened when there was no sign of his brother.

It's alright, he told himself. He'd be tucked away, anyway. Unless he…

Kili swallowed hard and hastily scanned the outside of the fortress before realizing he'd lifted his head too much. Tucking it back in, Kili let out several shaky breaths. There were no heads on picks, impaled bodies, or swinging corpses. He'd heard enough war stories from the village elders to know that if Fili had died in an orc stronghold, the fiends would have put his body on display as a testament to their prowess and danger.

Yet there was nothing.

Kili grinned. Nothing.

The dangerous hope that he had so far been unable to fully protect from the winds of doubt now turned into a flame.

The wave of excitement that washed over him was enough to drown out the drumming pain of his side and fingers.

Once more peering out, he memorized the movements of the orcs on watch, noting their positions and the types of weapons they seemed to carry. Since there wasn't much activity under the sun, Kili did his best to think like an orc and pretend he was setting up camp below. He would post sentinels on the highest stones, and even more further out, perhaps among those rocks a ways from the… yes. Though it was hard to tell at this distance, he thought he could see an orc spear shifting behind the rocks as its owner stretched.

He counted ten on the outside that he could see, and assumed more were on the opposite side, which would make the total –

A voice drifted to him and Kili instinctively shrank, flattening himself as much as he could. When the voice came again, he realized with a rush of panic that it was carrying on the wind from behind him… in Black Speech.

Cautiously peering over his shoulder, Kili watched the swaying grasses for any sign of the enemy. Seeing none, he cautiously scooted backwards until he was a safe distance from the brow of the hill before shifting into a low crouch. His pony squealed and pounded her hooves from the grove.

No, not Buttercup!

Breaking into a run, Kili darted for the trees. Once in their shade, he slowed and nocked an arrow, grimacing as the wood shoved against his injured hand when he drew the string even a little. Armed, he slunk from pine trunk to pine trunk, circling closer and closer to where he'd left Buttercup.

He heard her stomp her feet again as she thrashed, and he quickened his pace. When he came to the spot, he took one glance at the trio of orcs going through his saddlebags then yanked himself back behind the tree.

They were much closer than he'd thought. Small patrols must be all over the hills. It was probably how he and Fili had been discovered and attacked in the first place.

How dare they, he growled in his mind. How dare they press westward. How dare they settle into ruins only a few days' ride from home. How dare they think this was their land!

Peering back out, Kili scanned the surrounding trees to make sure there really were just three. When he spotted a fourth, fifth and sixth each standing guard in the shade a ways off, he was thankful that he did.

Buttercup nipped at one of the orcs who came too close to her head and the foul creature snarled, withdrawing its sword. Kili couldn't understand what it said in Black Speech, but it made his companions snicker. He raised his sword to Buttercup's throat.

Without another thought, Kili lunged out from behind the tree and fired a shot. He screamed as he did so, more from pain than as a war cry, but his arrow hit its mark and the orcs let out shrill wails as one of their own dropped. Buttercup began thrashing against her tethered reins and Kili didn't give the fiends a chance to regroup as he screamed and fired another shot.

This one only struck the arm of an orc so he fired again, breaking into a sweat as his body revolted against the use of the weapon. His third shot missed the orc he was aiming for, but out of pure luck, struck another that had dashed over to check on its companion.

Letting his left arm fall limp to his side, Kili unsheathed his knife and dashed down the hillside, crashing through the brush as he reached Buttercup. The orcs screamed out shrill alarms as a dwarf was suddenly in their midst, and before they could attack, Kili had cut Buttercup's reins. The pony reared as she spun about then galloped off.

Kili panted, watching her run to safety for a moment as everything grew quiet. Then a painful keening rent the air as the orc with an arrow in its arm recovered enough to run back down the hill, towards the ruins.

Coming back to his senses, Kili looked over at the three remaining orcs, who in turn looked at him, and then he bolted. The orcs roared as they fell into pursuit.

Fili's head throbbed from dehydration and his legs kept cramping from being unable to walk in his cell. He was hungry, too, but this he only knew from logic. His hunger pains had ceased the moment a messenger raven had arrived that afternoon.

The orc leader had stomped over to his cell and gleefully read him the message he had received from a scout.

"Thorin, the would-be-Oakenshield, rides east. Expect him within two moonrises."

Until that moment, Fili had allowed himself a sliver of hope, praying that his uncle had thought him dead. But it was not to be.

Though he knew Durin's heir wouldn't blindly ride into a trap such as this, he also knew how much his uncle loved him, and love like that could blind him. For all he knew, Thorin was riding to trade places with his nephew, and Fili could have none of that.

And so he returned to the subject he'd been pondering ever since he first conceived of it: How to die.

He'd thought about ramming his head against the stones, but dwarven skulls were infamously thick, and he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't fail and wake up a few hours later with a throbbing headache instead. Though he hated the idea of waiting until his uncle was close enough for the orcs to yank him from his cell and use him as bait, he knew it was his only realistic chance.

As soon as he was free, he would fight. He would bite and kick and run. Once he had died, Thorin would have no reason to stay.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had.

A bird squawked in the distance, its voice carried on the wind, and for a moment Fili was afraid that it was another raven bearing a message. The wind shifted, silencing the sound for several moments, before it was picked up again. Frowning, Fili realized that was no bird. It was the swine squeal of an injured orc.

The orcs around his cell began to shift and fidget, and he imagined they were all trying to get a view of the thing that sounded to be nearing the fortress. Crawling to a gap between the rocks, Fili did the same. He peered out but other than the floor of the ruins, all he could see was a thin slice of yellowed grass in the distance. Then he saw it. A stumbling dark shape running haphazardly towards them, clutching its arm.

A wounded orc… Fili blanched. What if it was Thorin? How could his uncle have covered so much ground so fast?

If he was already here then, by Durin, it was time to act.

Fili's throat suddenly went sticky. It was time to die, but he didn't want to yet. He wanted to feel the breeze and watch the swaying grasses through the gap. He…

Coward, he scolded himself. Dying was all he could do. For Thorin. For his mother. For Kili.

Steeling himself, Fili welcomed the eerie shell of numbness that settled over his body. He closed his eyes, remembering a time when he and Kili were children and had found a rope swing that stretched fifteen or so feet above a lake. Kili had latched onto the rope and swung with a gleeful cry, laughing when he surfaced because he'd hit the water at an awkward angle. Fili had taken the rope next, but hesitated. The water was so far down. Kili had swung so high. He couldn't do it.

"Just don't think about it," Kili had said as he latched onto a tree root to climb out of the water. "Standing up there is the scariest part."

Fili had wanted to say something superior to maintain his dignity as the older of the two, but nothing had come to mind. Following Kili's advice, he had backed up then jumped, and the soar through the air had been thrilling and far too short.

"Just don't think about it," Fili whispered. Death couldn't be much different than that plunge.

He turned to the rock slab that served as his door, ready to face his captors.

Kili hauled himself up on to the lowest pine bough with his good hand, hitting his head as he frantically sought out the next. Something whizzed past his ear and he didn't have to look back to know it was an arrow.

The bow lashed to his hand got stuck on a branch and Kili growled as he tried to yank it free. The moment's hesitation was all the orcs needed to close the gap between them and their prey. Kili saw the yellows of their eyes and pulled all the harder, heedless of his injured fingers. He yanked the bow free just in time, for a rusted blade dug into the branch where his foot had just been.

Tucking his left arm to his chest, Kili climbed as quickly as he could. The orcs snarled and gnashed their teeth below him, and each nightmarish sound took him another branch further. His good arm and legs burned with effort as he ducked and twisted, ever upwards. A branch scraped his side with heat, but he didn't stop climbing until the pine grew so thin that it swayed from his weight.

Hugging the trunk, Kili pressed his cheek against the bark and looked down. The three orcs hunting him paced around the base, like hounds that had treed a bear. After a few exchanges in their harsh tongue, one placed his blade in his mouth and, to Kili's horror, started to climb. The dwarf turned his wide eyes to the top of the tree, but there was nowhere else to go.

Fool, he scolded himself. Fool, fool, fool!

The orc climbing chuckled, readying its knife as it noticed the fearful way Kili was fidgeting. But the fiend was paying so much attention to his prey that he didn't notice he'd placed his weight on a hollowed out branch. The orc gasped in surprise, the blade falling from his mouth as the branch snapped and he tumbled down, smacking against several branches on his way down.

Kili grinned as the creature landed hard enough to cough the air out of its lungs.

"Serves you right," the young dwarf boasted before he even knew what he was saying. "Crawl back to your hole, you slugs."

Snarling, one of the orcs readied his bow and fired a shot. Kili's smile fled and he pressed himself flush against the truck, hearing the arrow hit pine needles as it flew past. He closed his eyes as he realized he hadn't been hit.

The orcs below laughed.

"Rat," one of them spat in Westron. "You'll have to come down sometime."

"I'll have to wee sometime, too."

The three orcs exchanged a look and backed up, giving Kili a moment to untuck his injured hand.

His joints were on fire and he had to get the weapon off of him. Discreetly as he could, he yanked at the rope binding his fingers to the handle, gasping when they were finally free and blood rushed back into them. Resting his forehead against the trunk, Kili closed his eyes, the breeze cooling the sweat on his temples.

One of the orcs below was making a loud snuffling sound, and Kili cracked open his eyes to peer down at them. The other two began to sniff the air, and one chuckled.

"I smell sweet nectar, boys. The scum is bleeding!"

The three fell into a chorus of excited laughter as Kili frowned down at them. He most certainly was not. He'd have noticed if –

The breeze was cooling something on his side that he had assumed was sweat, but now that he twisted to look, he realized that blood had seeped through his tunic. The burning pain of a branch scraping him on his way up wasn't a branch at all. It was his stitches bursting.

Damn.

Kili rested his temple against the bark, a deep, bruising pain blossoming in his side now that he knew what had happened. It would be all right, he told himself. He was healed enough for the wound to clot. A part of him that sounded like his mother pointed out that he'd felt feverish when he'd awoken that morning, and that none of this boded well if he was to find any remnants of Fili.

Despite his best efforts, Fili had broken into a nervous sweat and his jaw was quivering. His guts grated as the squealing orc made its way into the fortress, collapsing at the feet of their warg rider. Fili could see black blood slicking the creature's gray arm. Thorin had nearly hacked the limb off, no doubt… Only… was that an arrow?

The warg rider, whom Fili had gathered was named Dakog, approached the sniveling orc and sniffed the wound before yanking out the arrow, causing the injured creature to wail.

Though he wasn't versed enough in Black Speech to catch every word, Fili was fairly certain Dakog asked what had caused this.

He couldn't make out the rest, but the Dakog sniffed the arrow before casting it aside in disgust. Withdrawing a blade, he leaned over his prone comrade and whispered one word: weak. In a fluid motion, he slit the orc's throat.

Fili watched the black blood run with satisfaction, though the back of his mind was full of thoughts as noisy as a beehive.

Thorin would've used a blade against his enemy, not a bow. It was true that men often trafficked the plains, and one of them could have defended himself in an attack, but that arrow shaft hadn't looked long enough to be fired by a human arm.

One of the other orcs kicked the arrow yet again, sending it to rest near enough to Fili's cell that he could get a good look at it.

The beehive of his mind suddenly fell silent.

That was a dwarven arrow, and not just any. It was the same make as those sold in his village. And while it was hard to tell while so slicked with blood, it appeared to have a blue band painted just below the fletching. Fili swallowed hard. No, he was certain it was a blue band. Sky blue.

That was his brother's arrow.

Kili had marked them so as to tell them apart when he practiced on the targets with others. Someone was using his brother's bow, which meant that not only had Kili's body been found, but someone close to him was out for revenge.

Yet it still made no sense. Thorin freely admitted that he had no skill with a bow. Fili had seen for himself: he and Kili and once pestered him to death until he took a shot, only to miss the target by at least three yards, complaining that the bow wasn't constructed properly. And his mother… while she had been trained in weaponry, like most dwarf women, she also had no skill with archery.

Staring at the ground, Fili's mind raced, flipping through the faces of every dwarf he knew who Kili practiced with at the range and coming up short. Focus, he scolded himself. Focus.

But he could think of no one who would dare take his dead brother's weapons.

Which was when he was struck so forcefully by a thought that he had to catch himself to keep from falling onto the seat of his trousers.

He'd had no proof that Kili was dead. Only the word of an orc. Wounded, yes, seriously, but not dead. Could he have survived? Could this hell have all been a lie he was too shattered to contest?

Gasping for air, Fili wiped at his wet nose and realized that his cheeks were covered with tears.

"You're mad," he scolded himself. "Utterly mad."

Yet there was no denying the arrow that lay mere feet from him.


	10. Uncontrollable Blaze

Kili swallowed hard, hugging the pine as he watched the orcs below him warily. His body was aching and warm, and he knew it had nothing to do with the effort of climbing the tree, for that had been over an hour ago.

"He ain't coming down," one of the orcs griped. "I'll tell Dakog."

"Wait," another hissed. "This one's mine. I'm not sharing."

The first orc growled but seemed to begrudgingly agree.

All three peered up at Kili in the golden light of the setting sun, and he felt a chill from their amphibian faces being focused on him all at once.

"It doesn't shoot us because it's injured," the second orc, who had taken the lead, remarked. "Isn't it?"

Kili swallowed hard. "I wouldn't want to waste the arrows on you filth."

The leading orc sniffed deeply. "I smell sick and blood. Come on down and I'll clean the festering hole for you – by eating it."

Kili blanched and tightened his grip on the pine, though his arms cramped from having been in the same position for so long and he felt rather seasick from the swaying of the tree.

"If you so much as touch me," he shouted down, forcing courage into his voice. "I'll kill every last one of you. And then some."

"I don't know about you, boys," the leading orc chuckled. "But I'm scared outta my wits. Looks like the kitten thinks it can bite."

Kili sneered and loosened his hold enough to show the orcs below that he had a knife. As soon as they erupted in cackling, he wished he hadn't. They were right: he couldn't do much with the small weapon from this height. He cursed his injured hand, for if he could use his bow, he'd have made quick work of his tormentors long ago.

After a nod from the leading orc, one of the others withdrew what appeared to be rocks from its belt. Kili held the knife out in front of him, hoping to deflect the projectiles. The orc stepped back behind Kili where he couldn't see.

Not about to let himself get pelted in the back, Kili stiffly rose, readying to scoot to the other side of the trunk when a whining sound registered in his ear. A split second later, something was trying to cut off his head.

His good hand immediately flew to his neck that was burning as if with insect venom, realizing with shock that a thin line had dug into his skin, wound in place by the rocks he'd seen in the orc's hand.

Struggling to breathe, his smashed windpipe only let in a squeaking thimbleful of air, and primal panic that took over him was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The orcs were laughing and cheering below but he was dying, his strength fading as his lungs burned. He tore at his own skin but couldn't get the molten twine off.

Before he registered the thought, he'd dropped his bow and was climbing down as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. Pinpricks of light shot across his vision like shooting stars, then he couldn't see anything and could only hear his own blood like a swollen river, and he was falling.

* * *

Thorin unsheathed his sword as he registered the movement in the distance as a belonging to a horse. Someone was coming.

He stretched his arms and loosened his shoulders as he approached the rider, preparing to spring into action if need be. Yet even as he readied himself for an attack, he recognized the fair fur and steady lope of a pony. A familiar pony.

"Kili?" he shouted before cursing himself for his rash action. He had no idea who could be watching.

The pony broke into a canter and Thorin trotted towards it, his heart racing wildly when he recognized that it bore no rider.

"No…"

Spurring Zharr into a gallop, he met up with the pony and took in its severed reins and pillaged saddle bags.

"Oh, by Durin, no…"

Dismounting, he greeted the pony whose name he couldn't remember, other than it belonging to a flower as a joke among the boys. He rounded the pony, checking her over for any sign of what could have happened to her rider, relieved that there were no bloodstains on her pale fur.

But even so, her reins had been cut. His heart clenched over the thought of having to bear Kili's broken body home and lay him on Dis' doorstep. His sister wouldn't be able to survive it. And now that he was faced with it, nor could he.

Thorin yanked a length of rope out of his saddlebag and tied Kili's pony to the pommel of his saddle before hastily remounting. He spurred Zharr harder than he should have and both ponies broke into a gallop and he charged east, the cold wind whipping tears into his eyes.

He would find his nephew, and slay those responsible for harming him. Even if Kili was beyond saving.

* * *

A horrible, wheezing whistle kept sounding in Kili's ears, waking him up, and it took some time before he recognized it as his own breathing. He tried to lift a hand to his neck but his arm felt made of stone and he couldn't move.

Birds chirped on the fringes of his consciousness and something very close by stank of mildew, sweat and dung. A slap to his cheek forced his eyes open, and Kili looked up into the spinning image of the three orcs peering down at him.

"See?" one barked. "Told you it was still alive."

"Only one way to find out," another said.

Kili only had time to take another ragged breath before a boot was slammed into his side, boring into his wound. Kili screamed, arching his back as he tried to recoil from the pain as the rest of his body awakened from the near-strangulation.

His tortured cry echoed in the surrounding hills, bouncing down to the fortress where Fili heard it as a sound so distant that he couldn't place it. Yet it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He held his breath, listening for more.

Kili was dragged to his feet and hauled to the trunk of a tree. Two orcs held him in place against the bark while his vision swirled and was peppered with lights. The third orc approached with a length of rope, and just as it was a foot away, Kili's stomach churned from his dizziness and he retched. Onto the orc's face.

For a moment, all four stood in silence, watching the sick drip off of their comrade's nose.

Kili recovered the fastest, though recover wasn't quite the word for he still felt half drunk. A short little chuckle escaped his throat, and the orcs all turned to stare at him for another heartbeat before yanking his arms behind him and lashing him to the tree.

The soiled orc grabbed a handful of pine needles and cursed in Black Speech as he attempted to clean himself.

"You'll pay for that," he growled. "I'll make you scream even when you're past feeling pain."

Kili spat on the ground, the throbbing of his head finally abating enough for him to realize just what was going on. The rough bark of the pine stabbed into his quiver-less back and blood was crusting on his neck. The wound in his side was causing the muscles around it to spasm and he felt detached from his own body as he watched the soiled orc unsheathe a blade.

He'd always imagined that if he were tortured, he'd be terrified but would force himself to hide his fear. But now that it came down to it, he felt oddly separate from the situation. He knew he ought to be afraid but this was all so ridiculous, so painfully real that he just couldn't grasp it. Not even when the rusting blade dragged across his chest in a burning line, drawing a crimson trail from collarbone to side.

The orc watched his face intently, frowning when the young dwarf gave no reaction other than meeting his gaze, his waxy complexion almost calm.

The other two orcs shared a nervous glance. "It doesn't feel it," one muttered.

"Didn't I tell you they're not good sport?"

"Quiet!" the soiled orc snapped.

"It's true," the other insisted. "Look at the yellow one in the cell. He never eats nor drinks and no matter how much we beat him, he doesn't react. They're made of stone, they are."

Kili's pupils constricted as the orc's words made his world come back into focus.

He was tied to a tree while the birds around him sang their roosting songs, for the sun was setting, and once its golden rays were gone, the night would be terribly cold without a fire. His chest burned as sweat mingled with blood, and by Durin, it actually did hurt. Because he wasn't made of stone. He wasn't made of stone because his heart was pumping furiously in his breast, nearly dancing at the words.

_The yellow one in the cell._ Fili. He'd been right. His brother was alive. His brother was alive and the blazing hope in his breast had just been stoked into an uncontrollable blaze and he was laughing. He was laughing so hard that he was doubling over.

The three orcs shifted nervously around him, backing up a ways.

"It's mad…" One whispered. "I told you from the start. I smelled sick."

"Do you think it's rabid?" the other asked, backing up even further.

Kili felt tears clumping his lashes as he tried to stop laughing long enough to breathe and failed.

"Shut up," the soiled orc snarled. When the young dwarf ignored him, he marched over and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back. "I said shut up!"

When Kili didn't react, he hauled his fist back and slugged him in the side once more.

Kili's laugh choked into a cough. Growling, the orc slugged him again, and this time he got the reaction he wanted as the dwarf screamed.

In his cell, Fili leapt to his feet then hissed as he hit his head against the rock above him. That was a scream, he knew it was. But it didn't belong to an orc. That was someone being tortured. His arms shook as the haunting cry replayed itself in his mind.

He wasn't the only one who noticed, for Dakog mounted his warg and after shouting a few commands, took off, heading towards the source of the cries.

Kili gagged and tried to retch again but he had nothing left to throw up. He sagged against the ropes, thankful they were there to help support his weight as he forced all of his energy into breathing. His knees had buckled from the last blow and his vision went in and out of focus with each heartbeat. Heat flared up his spine, flushing his body into sweating even more and he knew it was because he didn't have enough air.

Digging his heels into the ground, he clenched his jaw to stay quiet as he straightened his torso, leaning back against the trunk and straightening his neck. He closed his eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths through his bruised windpipe.

He knew the orcs were still there but they were a distant annoyance – like pesky flies. How could they be anything else if Fili was alive? Alive! And down the hill waiting for him.

Something cold touched his face as the scent of his own sick drew nearer. He didn't open his eyes, for he could feel the hot breath of the orc touching his cheek. The clawed fingers on his jaw tightened as a drum assaulted his ears. They tightened again, shaking his head, and Kili realized it wasn't a drum at all, but a voice.

"Look at me," the orc beside him demanded, and Kili opened his eyes, though his lids were still heavy.

The soiled orc sneered in a smile.

"That's better," he hissed, raising his rusting blade to rest against Kili's scabbing throat. "I want to watch your eyes as your little light goes out."

Kili stiffened as the orc's words wormed their way into his brain, and his mind screamed that no matter how tired he was, no matter how he hurt, he could do his brother no good if he were dead.

The orc chuckled as it pressed the blade against him, and Kili realized that the fiend held a fistful of his hair, pinning his head back. Bound as he was, there was only one thing he could do.

The orc loosed his grip just enough to gain the leverage to slice, and in that moment, Kili brought his knee up, ramming the orc in the groin as hard as he could, just as his mother had taught him to do to strangers when he was small.

The orc's mouth twisted into an O as he lowered the blade, its eyes wide as he let go of Kili's hair and stumbled backwards, curling in on itself as a strained groan escaped his throat.

Kili smirked, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeding his senses until he felt alert once more.

The other two orcs gave the soiled orc a wide berth as he continued to stumble backwards. Once several feet away, he straightened, snarling at Kili. With a bellow, he raised its rusted sword and charged.

Kili's eyes widened and he jerked from one side to the other, desperately trying to escape his bonds. But there was no escape, and the fiend was charging straight for him with murder in his eyes.

Bracing himself, Kili held his breath…

Only to see the soiled orc snatched up in the jaws of a warg as the rider pounced upon it. Kili gasped as the warg shook its prey then then threw the lifeless body to the wayside. Looking up, the dwarf recognized the rider as the same who had attacked him and Fili all those nights ago, and despite his relief, dread crept up his spine as they locked eyes and he knew the rider recognized him as well.

"You," Dakog snarled, prodding his warg towards the dwarf.

Kili once again strained against the ropes, gritting his teeth as his wounds complained.

"You're supposed to be dead, whelp."

The warg paused just in front of Kili, and Kili turned his head away as it sniffed his prone form then dragged its tongue across the blood on his chest.

"What happened here?" Dakog demanded of the two remaining orcs, who were cowered in the distance.

"We… we found him in a tree," one squeaked. "We only wanted a bit of sport. We didn't know he was valuable."

Dakog growled.

"That's a lie," Kili said, surprised by the strength of his voice. "They found my pony first then treed me when I confronted them."

Dakog whipped his head from Kili to his subordinates. "I knew you stank of deceit."

The orc hardly had a chance to squeal before its cries were replaced with gurgles as the warg sank teeth into his flesh and the orc's lung ruptured with a pop. His companion cowered, covering his head.

Kili let out a shaky breath, trying to still the quaking of his body as Dakog slowly turned and unsheathed his sword, advancing upon him with a wicked smile.


	11. A Game

Kili swallowed past the swelling in his throat as Dakog advanced.

"Don't let it bite you," the one surviving orc from the patrol said. "It's infected. It's mad."

Kili didn't contradict the orc, for he knew that with his black eye and the blood marring his tunic, along with the multiple new scratches that stung his face from his fall and the burning slice around his neck, he probably looked as mad as he felt. To say nothing for his hair, which would've horrified Fili with its ratted, pine-sap clumped mess.

Dakog sniffed the air in Kili's direction then cocked his head, studying the dark-haired dwarf. Kili clenched his jaw, screaming at his body to stop shaking, but try as he might, his adrenaline-bathed muscles had a will of their own.

Growling, Dakog held his sword out to the other orc. "Then you do it. Cut his bonds. Lash him to me."

The orc's eyes widened but he obediently took the blade from his leader and shuffled towards their captive. Kili narrowed his eyes at the approaching orc, making sure his feet were firmly in place for the moment he was free.

Leaning as far from the dwarf as possible, the orc sawed at the ropes until they gave. The sudden release of pressure nearly made Kili fall, and he utilized the momentum as he roared and tackled the orc to the ground.

The orc screamed like a piglet, dropping the blade and thrashing. Given that Kili didn't have the strength to do much else, he bit the orc's arm as hard as he could. The fiend screamed as if his worst nightmare had come true.

A blow landed on the side of Kili's head, filling his vision with white light as he was thrown off of the orc. Coughing as he landed on the ground, he heard a heavy footstep on either side of his head. Then his hands were being gathered up and bound, and he cried out as the rope was cinched tight around his damaged wrist.

Dakog growled with satisfaction then yanked Kili to his feet. It was all the young dwarf could do to keep his footing as the rider pulled him along to his warg. The orc behind him sniveled and cradled his injured arm.

"Dwarf-scum!" he squeaked, as if his feelings had been hurt.

Kili blinked several times, feeling sick again but fighting off the nausea as Dakog mounted his warg. With another snarl, Dakog tugged on the ropes and forced Kili to take a stumbling step towards him before beginning their descent to the fortress.

"Go tell the others," Dakog growled to his subordinate, and the sniveling creature dashed down the hill ahead of them.

Kili gasped, forcing as much air as he could into his lungs, hoping it would help to chase away the pain and disorientation he felt after being punched in the side of the head. He'd been stumbling behind the warg for some time when his senses settled enough for him to take in what was happening: He was bound and being led into an orc fortress. While a part of him was intimidated, he focused on the voice that chanted that he was going to see his brother.

Grinning, he chuckled as he thought of how warm and wonderful he would feel to see Fili's face again. His laughter drew a suspicious look from Dakog, and he hoped the fiend really thought he was mad.

Kili felt mad. This whole situation was mad. He was going to see his dead brother. A flush spread from the back of his neck over the rest of his body, reminding him that some of his muddied thoughts were probably due to a fever. That would explain why he felt like he was slanted sideways even though he knew he was upright.

The sun was just touching the ridges in the west as it sank. Kili narrowed his dark eyes in its golden rays then looked down to the fortress as orcs scrambled to the entrance, lining either side. Their cries carried to him on the wind in a pulsating roar and Kili stood as straight as he could, for he knew he was about to enter a storm.

Fili strained his eyes as he watched the orcs scurry towards the fortress entrance after receiving a gasped message from yet another wounded orc. Yet try as he might, Fili couldn't get an angle to see what they were looking at.

"What's happening?" he shouted, yet if any nearby spoke Common Tongue, they ignored him.

When the stomping began, however, Fili knew his suspicions were right: the orcs were forming another gauntlet, which meant they had a prisoner.

Fili's stomach felt like jelly as he dared not even contemplate who it might be. His face was pressed so hard against the stone that it hurt as he tried to spy out.

The chanting grew louder as the warg rider and Kili approached. The sound was doing its job well, for Kili felt fear chilling his belly as they neared.

_Don't be frightened_ , he told himself. _You're mad, remember? Mad dwarves don't get frightened._

Throwing his head back, Kili took a deep breath and did the most defiant thing he could think of in the face of such brute strength: he sang.

" _In the merry month of May_  
 _From my home I started,_  
 _Left the girls of Ered Luin_  
 _Nearly broken hearted_."

Kili belted out the lyrics, drowning out the chanting orcs even if only in his own ears.

" _Saluted my father dear_  
 _Kissed my darlin' mother,_  
 _Drank a pint of ale_  
 _My grief and tears to smother_."

Fili held his breath, his hearing straining to discern the voice singing amid the din of his captors.

Kili smoothed his gait as he sang, trying to look as cheery as possible.

" _Then off to reap the corn_  
And leave where I was born,  
I cut a stout blackthorn  
To banish troll and goblin,  
In a brand new pair of brogues  
I rattled o'er the bogs,  
And frightened all the wargs,  
 _On the rocky road to Erebor."_

They were entering the gauntlet, and though the sight of so many yellowed eyes nearly made Kili's voice falter, he merely sang all the louder, adding a skip to his step for the most lively portion of the song, even as he was pelted with rocks and sticks.

" _One, two, three, four five,_  
 _Hunt the orc and turn him_  
 _Down the rocky road_  
 _And all the ways to Erebor,_  
 _Whack-fol-lol-de-ra!_ "

Fili grinned at the voice that was cracking from straining so loud, for he'd know that squeak anywhere, no matter how impossible it seemed.

"Kili!" he cried, though he could hardly hear himself above the din. "Kili!"

Then suddenly, Dakog was in view, stalking into the middle of the fortress with a rope in his hand. Shaking with anticipation, Fili craned his neck, trying to see behind the warg. Dakog gave the rope a yank and a filthy, blue-cloaked figure stumbled into view.

Fili yelped and covered his mouth. There before him, battered and bloodied, but alive, was his darling little brother.

Kili had his eyes closed as he continued to belt out the song until a swift kick from Dakog sent him to his knees and silenced his singing.

"Kili!" Fili shouted, but his brother didn't react, and within moments, the orcs had returned to the fortress, swarming in around their new captive and blocking Fili's view. "No! Move!" He growled when the sight of his brother was completely hidden behind grey bodies.

Kili stayed where he had landed on his knees, because his senses had been overcome by the bloodnoise in his ears and the burning of his throat as he struggled to breathe. He watched through a curtain of hair as a rusty spike was driven into the ground beside him and the rope binding his wrists was lashed to the metal.

_Why not_ , he thought. _I don't much feel like moving anyway._

His straining heart slowed, lessening the thunder in his ears, and Kili scooted until his back was to the spike, thankful to have something to help support his weight.

He was starting to feel sick again, and had to keep reminding himself of where he was. Then a voice broke through the foul chatter around him and he looked up, for he could've sworn he'd heard his brother.

_Fili_.

That's right. He was a brother and he was here for the other half of his soul.

_Wake up_ , he scolded himself. _This is no dream!_

Closing his eyes, Kili took several deep breaths, centering himself. His body was throwing far too many pain signals at him but he acknowledged each one, taking stock of his withering condition. As far as he could tell, he was no longer bleeding, for which he was thankful for he was lightheaded enough already.

Letting out a shaky breath, he kept his eyes shut as he trained his senses outwards. Feet were shuffling all around him and the air smelled like sour leather and bird droppings. Orcs. Everywhere. And the panting of the warg.

A finger poked his shoulder in a childish, frightened sort of way, and Kili let his body sway from the poke. A few heartbeats passed before there was a poke from another curious orc, then another. He could hear them shuffling in closer, losing their fear of the mad dwarf.

Kili waited until he could feel the tips of their boots touching his bent calves before taking a deep breath. His eyes snapped open as he lunged and barked, biting at whatever he could. The orcs tripped over each other and screamed, actually screamed, as they fought to get out of his rabid range.

When Kili saw the mess he'd caused, he couldn't help but laugh.

Dakog glowered at him from his dais off to the side. As the orcs shuffled away, returning to their posts as the sun set, Kili heard his name coming from before him.

Silencing himself, Kili scanned the rocks, looking for his brother, but all he could see was rubble.

"Kili," the tear-laden voice called again, and this time Kili could see fingers sticking out of a crack between two large stones.

Kili grinned, laughter tainting his voice. "Fili!"

"Yes," Fili gasped. "By Durin, I don't believe my eyes."

Kili raised his brows, wishing he could see more of his brother. "Fili… I thought… but…"

"What're you doing here?" Fili asked, his voice steadier, and this time Kili thought he could see some of his blonde hair peeking out of the crack.

"What am I doing here?" Kili repeated, grinning hugely. "I came to rescue you, of course!"

A moment of silence reigned between the two before Fili broke into a low chuckle that, once joined by Kili's, turned into a torrent of laughter.

The orcs lingering near the two exchanged nervous glances at the absurdity of the dwarves' behavior.

* * *

Thorin sneered, cleaning his blackened war hammer off on the grass, surveying the orc bodies scattered around him. They had started to tail him as soon as the ruins were in sight, and it didn't take long for the exiled king to set a trap for them by pretending to check his pony's hoof for a stone.

Six now lay dead, their black blood glistening in the light of the setting sun. Scanning the plains around him, Thorin hunted for any sign of his nephew. Knowing that the lad was never fond of the plains, he mounted Zharr and made for a grove of pines on a hill in the distance. It seemed he'd been wrong and the young dwarf had been bent on revenge, after all. Why else would he come so close to such a place?

Hoping that a patrol hadn't managed to sneak up on his nephew, Thorin galloped to the trees. His eyes danced over the orange pine needles on the ground and pierced the shifting shadows of the boughs, settling upon the body of a dead orc.

Frowning, Thorin dismounted and readied his hammer as he approached. The foul creature lay contorted on the ground, large bite marks on its torso.

"Wargs," Thorin snarled. The knowledge that such creatures had been close, and fairly recently, by the looks of the kill, made the hair on his arms stand on end.

A mess of rope lay at the base of a tree, and beside it was something that made the bottom drop out of his stomach. Dashing over, Thorin picked up Kili's quiver, still laden with arrows. But what disturbed him more than the knowledge that his nephew had been stripped of his weapons, was the fact that the chest strap of the quiver was marked with blood.

"Why?" Thorin whispered. First Fili, and now Kili. He closed his eyes, afraid to look around more, not wanting to see the lad's disemboweled corpse. "Why?" he repeated, his voice faltering as his throat tightened in a spasm. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

Laughter drifted up to him from the orc stronghold, and Thorin growled as he stalked over to the edge of the trees. The wind picked up, tossing his hair back, and he sneered at the fortress. Murderers. Filth. Blemishes on the earth.

"I will wipe out every last one of your kind," he growled into the wind. "Mark my words."

Zharr jingled his bridle and Thorin took a step to tend to the pony when the laughter echoed again. This time, he froze. That was no orc laugh. Thorin went rigid. It had sounded like… like Kili. And while he couldn't be sure, he had thought the familiar laugh was mingled with someone else's.

_Kili was alive._

Facing the fortress again, Thorin took a moment to breathe deep in the scent of pine, relief coursing through his veins. His nephew was down there, and when he thought of the lad alone and defenseless against such vile beings, his relief was swiftly replaced with battle lust as a war drum beat in his breast.

The orcs would rue the day they touched his kin.

* * *

While Fili would freely admit that the sight of his brother had moved him to tears, his eyes were now watering because he refused to blink. He was terrified that if he let Kili out of his sight, he'd be taken from him again.

Yet even as his heart thudded with joy so intense that he felt weightless and rejuvenated, he couldn't help but temper his happiness with worry. Kili was alive, yes, but he'd never looked so terrible before. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed as he rested, sagging against the spike. And even from his vantage yards away, Fili could see that blood was staining his little brother's tunic in more than one place.

"Kili?"

Kili lifted his head and blinked several times before enough clarity returned to his gaze to smile at him. Fili reached his fingers out of the cell, even though he knew he couldn't reach Kili.

"Stay with me."

Kili nodded, shaking himself into wakefulness, though Fili could see it was a losing battle. What in Durin's name had they done to his brother?

The dark-haired dwarf's head was hanging again and Fili withdrew his hand, holding his breath.

Kili slumped face first onto the ground, and the sight of him so limp and lifeless made Fili slam his chest against the rock in front of him.

"Kili!" Growling, he shoved at the stones to no avail then cried out in frustration.

A low, deep chuckle rumbled and Fili ceased his struggling. Dakog strutted into view, toying with a war club.

"I have good news," the orc nearly purred, his green eyes glistening as his subordinates lit torches as the light failed. "Your uncle is above us, hidden in a pine grove. Or so he thinks."

Fili sank down onto his knees, resting his temple against the stone wall. His joy was now beaten and bleeding in the shadows. All had been for naught. Kili's survival of the attack didn't change anything., no matter how much it meant to him.

Dakog leaned down to squat in front of the gap, relishing the dwarf's reaction after so much stoicism.

"I find these… attachments your kind form with your littermates and kin to be… most fruitful," Dakog rumbled.

Fili opened his eyes to glare at the warg rider. "You know nothing of love."

"I know enough to recognize it. It is a very useful weapon."

Fili looked away, glowering instead at the wall opposite him, cursing himself for having reacted to Kili's presence at all. He should've pretended they were strangers. When Dakog next spoke, Fili focused all of his thoughts on the words. He no longer had the luxury to dwell on what might have been.

"The Master is a ways off yet," Dakog continued. "And the dwarf-scum on the hilltop gives us a new option."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" Fili asked, looking back into the orc's gaze. He'd been impressed all along by Dakog's ability to reason, to the point of wondering if he was half human, but now Fili was wishing that the orc's mind wasn't so sharp.

"A game," Dakog said, baring his pointed teeth.

Dakog rose and nodded to a subordinate, who, with the help of several others, shoved aside the rock that served as the door to Fili's cell.

Fili stiffened, his heart suddenly hammering as the world widened and he could see every corner of the fortress and a few glimpses of the plains in the gloaming. "What're you doing?" he asked, hating the way his voice quivered.

Dakog stepped in front of him. Fili had never been next to the fiend off of his warg before, and now that he was before him, Fili realized just how large the orc was. Shakily climbing to his feet, Fili met the green gaze, resisting the urge to run to his brother's side.

"Here are the rules," Dakog snarled. "You may leave to warn the would-be-Oakenshield…" Dakog stepped aside to give the fair-haired dwarf the room to do so, then pointed to Kili. "Or you may lick the whelp's wounds."

Fili clenched his jaw, his wide eyes scanning the pines in the distance for any sign of his uncle before looking down at his little brother. Kili was breathing steadily, but it was obvious that he needed healing assistance… assistance that Fili didn't have. If he left, he and Thorin could rescue Kili, whereas if he stayed… Thorin would have no idea an entire orc horde, soon to be joined by their "Master," was waiting for him.

Dakog grinned at the conflict on Fili's face as he looked from the hillside to his brother then back again.

"How do I know you won't kill me?" Fili asked.

"If you run, we will wait before we hunt you. My men want sport, after all. And we only need one heir to lure the boar."

Fili licked his lips, his brows coming together as he studied the ground, taking in the booted footprints the orcs had left behind, wracking his brain for an answer that made sense.

Sighing, Dakog shifted his weight. "On three. One…"

Fili took a deep breath, looking up at the hills. Kili was his brother. He couldn't abandon him.

"Two…"

But Thorin was his uncle, and he couldn't abandon him, either. _And he is your king._

Fili squeezed his eyes shut.

"Three."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't recognize it, the song is the traditional Irish "Rocky Road to Dublin," though I've altered some of the lyrics! ;)


	12. Blindness

"Three."

Fili bolted past Dakog and the orcs gathered nearby parted to let him leave… only to have Fili skid to his knees beside his little brother.

Dakog smiled, nearly purring with satisfaction. "Predictable sucm."

Fili braced Kili's shoulders as he rolled him onto his back. He brushed the hair off of his brother's face, holding his breath as he watched for any signs that Kili would wake.

"The scum is weak," Dakog bellowed, marching over to the two dwarves. "It has no mind. It chooses a festering whelp over a would-be-king."

Fili closed his eyes, shame burning in his chest as he cradled his brother's warm, limp form.

Dakog towered over the two, shouting to his subordinates. "The orc is strong! The orc serves his leader. The orc will conquer Middle-earth!"

A chorus of cheering roars rose up around the fortress and Fili flinched, instinctively curling around his brother, as if to protect him from the sound.

The din continued, even as Fili felt clawed hands on his shoulders, yanking him away from his Kili. "No… no!"

Fili struggled to break free, only to be slugged in the gut by Dakog's war club. Crumpling to the ground, Fili coughed, fighting to breath past the spasming in his abdomen.

"You… you…" he gasped.

Dakog growled. He grabbed Kili by the shoulders and half dragged, half threw his limp form into the cell.

Fili reached out a hand in a feeble attempt to stop Dakog, only to have it stomped on by one of the orcs. Yelping, Fili recoiled and the orc laughed. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Fili didn't have the chance to answer as he was likewise grabbed by his shoulders and shoved back into the cramped space. He landed on Kili's legs and immediately scrambled off for fear of hurting his brother.

"You filth!" he screamed as the rock slab was shoved back into place, sealing he and Kili off. "I'll kill you all!"

The orcs outside laughed and while a part of Fili regretted his childish outburst, he couldn't pretend anymore. Not when Kili was dying beside him and Thorin was riding into an ambush.

Wiping at tears he didn't even realized he'd shed, Fili scooted back to his brother and looked him over as best he could in the near-darkness. The younger dwarf was still unconscious and though he looked to have mud stains on his face, Fili couldn't tell them apart from bruises in this light. He lifted his hand and hovered it over Kili's face, only to realize that he was afraid to touch him.

_You won't hurt him_ , he told himself. Yet the part of his mind that was still in awe over his brother seeming to have come back from the dead saw Kili as an incredibly fragile thing.

Taking a few breaths to steady himself, Fili slowly reached out his hand and rested it against his brother's cheek. The younger dwarf's skin was warm. Fili frowned, feeling Kili's forehead, realizing that his brother had a fever. Yet Kili had just been captured, and infection didn't set in that soon… this must be from an older wound.

Gently feeling Kili's tunic, he realized that the fabric was stiff with drying blood just above the hip, where Kili had been shot that terrible night. Fili's shoulders hunched as his heart was weighted by an onslaught of imaginings.

Kili truly had escaped, and had somehow recovered enough to think himself fit to return for his brother. Yet here he was, fevered and unconscious and far worse for wear… all on his account. He may not have been the hand that wounded his brother, but he may as well have.

True night's chilling tendrils crept through the gaps of their stone prison, and Fili knew that there was only one thing he could do to help his brother: he could keep him warm. Lying down beside him, despite the fact that there was hardly enough room to do so, Fili gathered up his brother and pulled him against his chest.

Kili's heart beat against his brother's body, and Fili closed his eyes, his brow smoothing at each precious thump. Despite Kili's state, the beat was as strong and steady as his aim.

"My little brother," Fili whispered against Kili's forehead. His dark hair smelled of sweat and pine sap, and Fili reveled in the scents of life.

Kili could be mindless of other people's space, he could speak out of turn and, and with his lithe build, was hardly up to dwarven standards of bulk, but none of that mattered to Fili.

Rather, it mattered only because he loved his little brother all the more for his flaws, for they were Kili's, and he loved Kili. He was _his_ little brother and no one else's.

A part of his heart always broke a little at the thought that others didn't understand Kili the way he did. That they would never see him as the bright light that Fili did. There were times that the two fought and said things they regretted, and on many occasions needed a break from each other, but even then, Kili was his other half.

When they were together, laughing and speaking in so many inside jokes at the dinner table that neither their mother nor Thorin could discern a word of what they were saying, it was difficult to tell where one dwarf ended and the other began.

Fili treasured that bond, and now that he had it back again after such a cruel trick, he would do anything to defend it.

* * *

Thorin had dispatched of two more orc patrols with only a cut on one of his arms for his trouble. When he was sure he had their attention, he had doubled back on each patrol and gutted them by stealthily sneaking into their midst from behind.

It had worked like a charm as he made his way nearer to the fortress. Except for now.

The orcs reacted as if they knew he was coming, and Thorin was caught slightly off guard when one spun around with a mace before he was even close enough to strike. Taking a few hasty steps backwards, Thorin regained his footing and shifted his grip on his war hammer as all six orcs locked eyes with him.

The grass swayed around them in the moonlight, and for several tense moments, the dwarf and orcs sized each other up. Then one squealed and charged. Thorin cut him down with a swipe at his legs.

Three more followed in an attempted charge, rusted blades drawn. The exiled king parried a blow from the first then spun, bracing his elbows against his torso as his hammer crushed into the other two. The third squealed in frustration, only to have its head bashed in as Thorin whirled back around.

The remaining two orcs gnashed their teeth and one threw a knife, but Thorin ducked.

"What's stopping you?" the heir of Erebor growled out.

After exchanging a look, the two orcs charged. Thorin waited until the last moment then dropped to one knee as the orc on the right swiped wildly with his sword… only to gut his companion who was on Thorin's left.

Rising, Thorin raised his hammer and brought it down on the felled orc's skull, his face splattering with blood. Whirling around with a snarl, he faced the remaining orc.

The fiend backed up, hunching and hissing like a snake, before turning on his heels and running. Thorin gave chase, and when the orc saw that he was catching up, it shrieked hideously in alarm. Infuriated by the noise, Thorin leapt into the air, closing the distance between them and bringing down his hammer with enough force to nearly split the orc's head from his neck.

The orc crumbled to the ground as Thorin landed, and when the king looked back at his kills, he realized that the final orc had squealed loud enough for the entire fortress to hear.

Panting, his brow glistening with sweat, Thorin faced the stronghold in the distance. These orcs had been expecting him, as did the rest of those in the fortress, no doubt.

Well, then. It was only fair that he had let them know their guest had arrived.

* * *

Dakog's warg coughed, hacking out a chunk of bone as it gnawed on a meal outside of the dwarves' cell.

Kili jerked at the sound, and upon awakening to arms around him, immediately began to struggle.

"Kili," Fili whispered. "It's all right. It's me."

Kili stilled and his voice was hoarse. "Fili?"

"Just lie still. I'm right here."

Kili relaxed, slumping back down into the dirt with a sharp exhale. He rested a hand on Fili's forearm and Fili frowned as the grip tightened around the torn sleeve of his tunic.

"What's wrong?" Fili asked.

"I… Fili?"

Fili rested his hand on his brother's cheek, happy that his skin hadn't heated any further. "Yes?"

Kili started panting as he squeezed his brother's arm once more. "I can't see you."

Fili frowned, his fingers sliding into Kili's hair, feeling for any sign of injury. "Was your head struck?"

"No… yes. Yes. The tall orc – the one on the warg…" Kili gulped down as gasp. "Oh Durin, I'm blind."

Heat edged with ice flushed Fili's face and chest at his brother's panicked confession. He latched onto Kili's hand, squeezing it in support as his own breathing hitched. Maybe it was only temporary. Maybe it was… Wait.

"Kili, you do know that it's dark out, don't you?"

Kili was quiet for several heartbeats. "It is?"

"You're in the cell with me. Look, twist your head – can you see anything?"

Struggling, Kili craned his neck to peer at the gap Fili had been looking through, and even in the dim light, Fili could see his brother's face break into a smile.

Fili chuckled. "Thank Durin."

Kili squeezed his brother's hand as he relaxed again. "That frightened me. I thought it was still day."

"No," Fili said quietly. "You have been still for quite some time."

Kili breathed deeply for several moments before speaking. "Is there any water?"

Fili closed his eyes. His thirst was something he'd been unsuccessfully trying to keep out of his thoughts for some time now. "I only wish there was."

Kili quietly groaned before shifting his weight so that he was lying on his side. Scooting closer to his brother's warmth, he rested his forehead against Fili's shoulder. His mind drifted to the morning he first awoke after the attack, when he had thought that he was safe at his brother's side, only to discover that his brother was gone. Kili closed his eyes, the remembrance of the agony of Fili's loss echoing in his heart like the exhaustion that comes after enduring great physical pain. He knew it had happened, but he never wanted to think about it again.

"You were dead," he said quietly.

Fili shifted, able to see the top of Kili's dark head illuminated in the scant torchlight. "What?"

"Thorin thought you had been killed… and so did I."

Fili took a deep breath then exhaled it through his nose, a tremor coursing through him. "Poor mother."

Kili had parted his lips to try to find some way to tell Fili how horrible he had felt, how now that it was over, he could look behind him and say, without a doubt, that grieving for his brother hand been the darkest night of his soul. But upon hearing Fili's words, his thoughts were hijacked by the memory of his mother's lamentation over having lost her firstborn and finest son.

"She's in a bad way," was all Kili could force out, his voice hollow. "She'll be… so relieved when you come back to her."

Fili shook his head then rolled onto his side to face his little brother. "What were you doing out here? Trying to rescue me on your own? How did you know I was alive?"

"I came back to find what was left of you…" Kili's stomach churned at the memory. He wanted to stop talking and never think on it again, but he owed his brother the truth. "And then I found a rope that had bound you, and I got hopeful and…"

"Reckless," Fili finished for him.

Kili nodded, his throat tightening and his eyes stinging before he was even able to sift through his thoughts to find out why. Then his mother's voice answered for him: failure.

"I guess it wasn't really much of a rescue," he admitted as warm tears clumped his lashes. He was thankful his brother couldn't see his face. "I wasn't thinking of getting out. Just getting to you." He swallowed hard as his brother's hand moved to rest on his bicep. "I wasn't sure until I saw you. And I had to be sure."

Kili squawked in surprise and no small amount of pain as he was suddenly yanked into a hug by his bear of a brother. Yet despite the sting of his wounds, Kili clung back, tears slipping freely down his cheeks as his brother's heart beat against his chest. Even if he hurt for the rest of his life, he would take the pain for one of his brother's hugs.

"Oh, Kili," Fili whispered into his brother's hair, his voice strained. "I thought the same. But now you're here. You foolish, foolish, dwarf. Durin bless your folly."

Kili laughed softly, his heart suddenly lightened, and he realized that he was forgiven, even if he didn't know he needed forgiveness until this moment. He had been rash and endangered himself, but it had brought him to Fili, and it was worth it for both of them.

A terrible screech rose up from the plains, cutting off both of their thoughts.

Fili lifted his head, holding his breath and listening intently as the orc wail in the distance was cut off brutally. The orcs outside of the dwarves' cell shuffled as the scream echoed, silencing the scant crickets.

Closing his eyes, Fili let out his air. _Thorin is here._

The orcs outside seemed to shuffle about with uneasy silence before one roared back, as if answering the dead one's cries.

Kili craned his neck, trying to see out of the nearby crack without moving away from his brother's embrace. "What's going on?"

"Thorin."

Kili froze, looking to where he knew his brother's face to be. "What?"

"They attacked us to set a trap – to use me as bait for I'm his heir. Seems someone has a grudge against him… he must've followed you here."

Kili stiffly tucked his forehead back against his brother's collarbone, his stomach tightening and sinking as he realized that of course Fili was right, and he'd unwittingly led his uncle straight into harm's way.

"He'll try to rescue us," Kili said so quietly that Fili almost didn't catch it, for he knew now that he truly had been blind to not have avoided the trap that had been set for their uncle.

Fili sighed. "And he will fail. The orcs are far too numerous."

"He is no fool. Surely he knows this… he wouldn't risk it, Fili. And he doesn't know you're alive." He didn't say what he hoped: that if Thorin believed only Kili was captured, he would give him up, for he feared that once their uncle knew that his true heir was still alive, he would fight for him. And that would only lead to more tragedy.

"I've never heard of our uncle backing down from a fight with an orc," Fili said grimly.

No matter how much Kili wanted to agree with him, he knew it was true.

* * *

Thorin stretched his back and shoulders, hidden behind a piece of rubble that had been guarded until moments before. The orc bodies now lay contorted and broken at his feet. Breathing deep, he surveyed the fortress before him.

His only nephew was in there, assuming the lad was still alive. And while Thorin wasn't about to abandon the boy, he wished he had stealth on his side, for sneaking Kili out would give them a greater chance of survival than single-handedly storming the stronghold. Though he doubted the advantage was very big.

He would have to wait until the day, when the orcs slept, if they would sleep now that they knew he was here. Or else he'd have to –

Cold metal pressed against Thorin's spine.

Stiffening, the son of Thrain raised his arm, ready to spin about and demolish the orc that somehow managed to sneak up on him. One word and a familiar voice, however, made him freeze before he could swing his hammer.

"Brother."


	13. Promise Me

Thorin let his arms relax as he turned around to find Dis standing behind him, her hair combed and tied up in a knotwork of braids, her careworn face set with determination. He stared at her for a moment, not only out of surprise from her presence, but by her incredibly improved appearance. His eyes crinkled in a smile.

Dis arched a brow and lowered her sword, her voice so soft it nearly blended with the swaying of the grass. "Is my son in there?"

Thorin hesitated then nodded, stepping towards his sister as she closed her eyes. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Not here. Let us go where we will not be overheard."

Dis' lower lip shuddered for a moment but her blue eyes met her brother's before she fell into step beside him.

The two made for the grove of pines where Thorin had found Kili's quiver and hidden his and Kili's ponies. To his surprise, he found Dis' pony there, as well.

He cast his sister a questioning look and she stepped over to stroke Tristan's blaze. "Seems we think alike," she said. "It's how I knew you were here."

Thorin took in a deep breath then let it out shakily. "Dis… I don't know how to get him back."

"What is he even doing there? Here?"

"He must've thought he could… avenge Fili."

Dis nodded stiffly, and Thorin thought her skin looked tight, as if she were struggling not to let it tear and unravel in the face of losing her youngest. "Have they harmed him?"

"I do not know. But…" He fetched Kili's quiver from his Zharr's saddle and held it out to his sister, showing her the bloodstain. "It doesn't bode well."

Dis nodded, hugging the quiver to her chest for a moment and whispering a prayer in Dwarvish before hastily wiping at her eyes. "Then we don't know if he even survives."

"I heard… laughter, this afternoon. I think they mean to lure me in their midst by using him as leverage. If that's true… then he'll be kept alive."

"Laughter?" Dis asked, her eyes still shimmering in the moonlight.

Thorin shook his head. "Madness, maybe, fever…"

"Fili may have been as stubborn as an ox," Dis said, "but Kili is often defiant for the sake of defying."

Thorin smirked, remembering many a time when his sister, at her wit's end with the rebellious child, had resorted to sticking him in the naughty spot by the hearth. Which always turned into Kili pretending to have as much fun as possible while enduring his punishment, and often ended with him and Fili passing "secret" notes and giggling when they thought their mother wasn't looking.

"That he is… that he is."

Dis stepped up to her brother, the silver moonlight pooling in her grey-streaked braids. "So… what do we do?"

Thorin raised his brows. "We?"

"You're a damned fool if you think I'm going to do anything other than fight tooth and nail until my bairn is back in my arms."

The fire in her voice made Thorin stand taller and step closer, for he'd never been prouder to be her brother.

* * *

Fili and Kili now sat side by side with their backs against one of the stone slabs of their cell, their arms entwined as they huddled together for warmth, watching the orcs in the torchlight outside as Dakog ordered them into position.

"Do you think they've spotted him?" Kili asked in a whisper.

"No."

"They're awfully scared of one dwarf."

Fili smiled a little despite the dread curdling in his stomach. "I would be, too, if I thought I was to face down Azog's killer."

Kili rested his cheek on Fili's shoulder, his arrow wound pulsing like a hot drum. He wished he had water, though right now, he'd be torn between drinking it and using it to try to extinguish the flame in his side.

The warg snarled outside and Kili remembered the stench of its breath as it had licked the knife wound on his chest. Its head was as big as his torso, and it's teeth… unbidden, the image of his uncle falling prey to the foul creature filled his mind.

"We can't let him die," Kili whispered as a tremor coursed through his body.

Fili sighed. "You're shivering again."

"There must be something we can do."

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down?"

"Even if all we can do is distract the orcs when the time comes."

"Kili –"

"I'm _not_ lying down," Kili snapped, straightening. "Aren't you listening?"

Fili shook his head. "I have tried and I have tried, but these rocks are impossible to move."

"But we can't just sit here!"

"Quiet," Fili hissed as his brother's outburst drew a snarl from an orc outside. He waited until the creature stomped past before continuing in a quieter voice. "I have been with these fiends for far longer than you. And if I've learned one thing, it's that no matter how you feel, sometimes you must wait for the opportune moment if you want any chance at escape."

Kili studied his brother's profile in the torchlight. "But you didn't escape."

"Not yet. But I had a plan in motion. It would've worked." He didn't tell his brother that his planned means of escape had been death.

Kili let out a soft breath, seeming to grow smaller beside him. "So I ruined that, too."

"No. No – you ruined nothing."

The dark-haired dwarf was quiet for a moment before he looked up at the glint of his brother's eyes. With nothing but the distant torchlight, Kili was surprised by just how much Fili looked like Thorin. His bold, regal features and broad stance suited his title as one of Durin's line. Even withered in a cell, Kili thought he looked every bit a future king. "Fili?"

Fili shifted to look at him.

"If the opportunity ever comes – if you're ever able to escape again, even if it means without me – promise me you'll take it."

Fili furrowed his brow, parting his lips to argue when Kili shook with another shiver.

"You have to promise," Kili insisted.

Fili hugged Kili's arm closer to him. "Why would I ever leave you?"

"Because you're strong," Kili said. "Because for all we know, my blood is poisoned."

Fili shook his head, feeling his brother's skin again, his heart thundering at the thought of the infection spreading beyond the point of return.

"More importantly, Fili… because it's what I want. For you."

The fair-haired dwarf struggled to swallow past the tightness in his throat. "Don't talk like that."

"Fili." Kili forced solidity into his voice despite another shiver. "Promise me."

Despite a lion roaring in his chest, screaming no, despite knowing that he was telling a lie, Fili nodded yes.

His response seemed to comfort his brother for Kili's shoulders slumped then. Fili pulled him into a hug, wrapping both arms around him and rubbing his back, wanting to remind himself of his brother's life as much as he wanted to keep him warm and from getting any weaker.

* * *

Thorin carried over two more large stones to add to the small crater Dis had made above an abandoned fox den. She accepted the stones without a sound and added them to the turf, lining the surface of the indentation in the earth until it resembled a giant bowl above the hole in the ground.

She shifted and shoved a cooking pot into the fox den beneath a hole in the center of the makeshift earth bowl, then backed up.

"That should do it."

"They may smell the smoke," Thorin cautioned, yanking over an armful of green branches.

"Then the fire better burn hot. For all our sakes." Dis directed him to set the branches aside while she filled the earth bowl with thin, skinned pieces of pinewood.

Thorin headed over to Zharr and withdrew his tinder kit from his saddlebag. Dis finished arranging the small sections of stripped pine then covered them with the green pine-needled branches.

"Fill in the gaps with moss, leaves," she directed. "Anything to keep air from entering. We don't want the pine strips to burn."

"Right." Thorin scoured the hilltop for any materials of use, grateful that they were still shielded by night yet wishing he had more light to see.

Once they had the pinewood covered and sealed, he looked to his little sister. "And now?"

Dis wiped sweat off her nose, panting. "Now we build the fire."

Thorin nodded and helped her stack fallen branches on top of the heap.

"It has to burn as hot as possible," Dis said.

Thorin struck his flint and steel against a small nest of pine needles, and the orange mass caught quickly. Blowing gently, the rest of the wood was soon snapping and hissing, illuminating the grove. They were farther back in the trees than he was when he'd found Kili's quiver and he hoped the cover was enough to keep what they were up to secret.

Dis knelt beside the entrance to the fox's den, listening for the telltale drip of the sap into the kettle.

"You learned well," Thorin said, approaching from behind.

"My husband was very skilled at making tar," Dis said, straightening. "I've just never done it without him. Add more wood. We have to get the pine to sweat."

Thorin nodded then left to do so, his ears trained on the grove around him lest an orc catch them unawares.

* * *

Dakog leered down at the orc approaching and the creature cowered.

"Well?" Dakog asked in Black Speech.

"He has not moved, my lord."

Growling, Dakog turned his green eyes to the distant hilltop. He should have known his prey would not be as irrationally predictable as the yellow scum.

"But that's not all," the orc continued, and Dakog returned his gaze to his subordinate. "We smelled smoke. And burning. More than conies."

Dakog rested against his spear, narrowing his eyes at the moonlit hill. Making something… he could be hardening wood for spears, or arrows. He could be cauterizing a wound. Whatever it was, he had been left alone for long enough.

"Time to speed things up," Dakog announced, straightening. "Fetch me one of the whelps."

"Dakog, the Master has not yet –"

"Enough," Dakog bellowed. "I grow tired of waiting on his arrival. If he wishes to tarry in the north, then he shall miss our sport. Either way, I will have the would-be-Oakenshield's head waiting for him on a pike!"

Kili had fallen asleep with his cheek resting on Fili's shoulder, only to jolt into wakefulness by the rock slab serving as the door to their cell being yanked aside. Fili's arm instinctively tightened around his little brother.

"Time to come out and play," an orc waiting by the entrance snarled before reaching in and yanking on one of Fili's arms.

Kili latched onto the back of his brother's tunic, only to have it wrenched from his grasp.

Two orcs wrestled Fili out of the cell, and it took a third to restrain him enough to bind his hands. In all of the commotion, the entranceway had been left unattended. Within moments, Kili shot out on all fours like a rabid dog. The orcs nearby squealed and ran, smacking into each other.

Dakog snarled at the commotion, standing upon the dais with his warg.

Leaping to his feet, Kili shoved one of the orcs off of his brother then turned to take down another, even as the fire seemed to have suddenly left him. He latched onto the second orc's arm, intending to bite, when he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hoisted off his feet.

"Kili!" Fili cried as he watched Dakog hold the struggling dwarf out before him, like a cat torn between continuing the game of playing with its prey and putting a twitching bluebird out of its misery.

Kili clung to Dakog's forearm, ceasing his struggling as the eyes that narrowed at him made him very aware that he was in the clutches of a predator. Dakog cocked his head before sneering and casting Kili aside, sending the dwarf skittering across the ground.

Fili yelped and lunged, only to be held back by several orcs.

"Your uncle is a coward," Dakog said, stalking back over to his dais. "He hides himself in the trees instead of facing me like a warrior."

"If you're so brave then ride out and face him," Kili spat from where he landed, struggling to sit up. "Instead of luring him into your hornet's nest."

"Because Dakog knows," Fili growled, locking eyes with the large orc. "That there is only one coward here, and it's him."

Roaring, Dakog leapt from his dais and punched Fili in the face, so hard that the fair-haired dwarf broke free of the hands restraining him and crashed to the ground.

Kili sneered and, using the wall for support, struggled to his feet. "Touch him again and die!" Kili barked, his chest heaving as his pale face, covered with a thin sheen of sweat, glistened in the flickering light. Knowing he had their attention, Kili raised his brows. "I'll infect every last one of you, I swear it."

The orcs nearby slowly backed away, their eyes widening at the threat.

Fili groaned into the dirt, only in command of his senses enough to just make out what was being said around him. He'd never been hit so hard in his life and was still reeling from the way his molars had cracked together.

"Don't let it touch you," an orc screeched, and Kili recognized him by his bandaged arm as the one he had bitten earlier. "I'm halfway to the grave myself!"

To Kili's surprise, and to Dakog's, by the look on his face, three orcs actually dropped their weapons and ran, abandoning the fortress. Kili watched them leave, unable to keep from grinning.

Dakog sneered and stalked over to the smaller dwarf, snarling. Kili's smile fled and he inched away along the wall, only to be grabbed by Dakog's clawed hand. He cried out as the orc yanked him to his side then pulled up the hem of his tunic, revealing his festering wound.

"See now the source of your mad dwarf," Dakog snapped. "He's no more than a stuck piglet."

The orcs around them crept closer to catch a peek at the infected hole, as if finally confirming what their noses had told them all along, despite the frenzy their fear had churned.

"If you don't think that my brother is mad," Fili groaned from the ground past his swelling jaw. "Then you don't know him at all."

With a grunt, Dakog hauled Kili over to his brother then handed him off to another burly orc. The orc took shoved Kili to his knees then grabbed a fistful of hair to keep him in place. He needn't have, for Kili's head was swirling so much that it was all he could do to stay upright.

Dakog gestured to Fili as he stepped past, headed for a crude stairwell. "Bring him."

The three orcs surrounding Fili hauled him to his feet and yanked him along behind Dakog.

Kili lunged to try to follow, only to yowl and latch on to the hand fisted in his hair as he was yanked backwards. Forcing himself to relax against the pain in his scalp as his strength fled with a flush of heat, all he could do was watch as his brother was herded up to the fortress wall.

* * *

"Good," Dis said, grinning as the dripping sap grew steady, plinking into the pot in the abandoned fox den. "It's working."

Thorin's eyes danced as he watched his little sister add more wood to the fire. He parted his lips to compliment her when a voice reached them on the breeze. Furrowing his brow, Thorin stalked over to the edge of the trees, motioning for Dis to stay put. She didn't listen, however, and fell into step behind him.

The sky was lightening in the east and with some relief, Thorin realized dawn was finally approaching. The landscape below was easier to make out in the greying light, and he easily spotted the fortress.

"Oakenshield!" the voice bellowed again.

Dis stepped up to his side, her sword drawn.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Dakog called in a sing-song voice. "Because the fun is about to begin!"

Thorin could just make out Dakog's large shape on the fortress wall, surrounded by smaller, darker ones.

"That fiend," Thorin growled, his eyes straining to see if Kili was in their midst. Orange sparked beside Dakog for a moment when a torch was lit, and in its faint glow, Thorin could make out the distinct, pale flesh of a dwarf amongst the orcs.

Dis' hand latched onto his arm, painfully tight. Wrenching his attention to his sister, Thorin hastily reached out to support her as her knees gave out.

"Dis? Dis!"

"By Durin," Dis gasped, clutching at her chest. "I saw him. In the orange light. I saw him!"

Thorin furrowed his brows, trying to haul his sister back up to her feet but to no avail. "Who?"

Dis' teary eyes latched onto her brother's. "Fili."


	14. Weaving A Spell

As Dakog roared Thorin's name, asking him to come out of hiding, Fili a spotted glow in the east and a small patch of calm formed amid the turmoil of his soul. He couldn't tell why, though, because day or not, there was no escaping what was about to happen.

A torch was lit beside him, and he watched the burning drops of oil fall from the shaft and splatter onto the stone below them. The orange and black of the fire and oil were so simple, yet so elegant… and the only thing in this world that could command his focus, for he fast felt that he was fading.

His identity was dissolving like a drop of ink in water. He knew he was Fili, the heir of Thorin Oakenshield, but what did that mean, really? Thorin had no kingdom, and so he was actually an heir of nothing but air, which was fitting for the words sounded the same. And inheriting air made just as much sense as everything else about his title, for it was nothing. He had never given it much thought, but now he was forced to. Because it was that very label that had brought so much ill upon him and those he loved most in the world. It was that title, that non-existent thing, that would be his ruin.

And it wasn't fair, Fili thought as Dakog once more bellowed for his uncle to show himself. Because if he was going to be responsible for bringing down his family, he'd rather it at least be something he was responsible for rather than an accident of birth. _Heir_ had never been a part of him.

Fili was cold mountain wind and pony sweat, stitching hides and ale songs. He was a brother and a son and a nephew; a lover of snow and an eater of ripe berries. He was Fili, and Fili was so much more than an heir, and yet here he was, this non-thing, this non-Fili, killing him.

Dakog spun about to face him, his taunting done, and though Fili once more focused his mind on the present and the fiend before him, he was no longer all there. A part of him was still wandering a snow-covered path, hunting a fox, as if clinging to that shred of who he was could stop all of this insanity over who he wasn't.

"Fetch me a brand," Dakog snarled, and one of the orcs descended the stairs. "Let's see just how invincible the dwarf who doesn't need to eat or drink actually is."

Sweat broke through his skin, prickling and tickling his chest and the back of his neck, despite his exterior calm. He was about to be tortured into luring his uncle to his death. And there was nothing he could do to stop it, save hurling himself off of the wall, which was next to impossible with the orcs restraining him.

Down below, in the belly of the fortress, Kili watched an orc stick a metal spike into a fire, smiling as he heated the tip. Kili's hands were still latched around that of the orc restraining him by his hair, and while he couldn't hear what Dakog had said to his brother, seeing the heating metal was enough.

Panic rose in his breast like so many birds taking flight, and Kili lunged to stop the orc withdrawing the brand and turning towards the stairs, only to be yanked back into place by his hair. Hissing, Kili tried again, but this time the orc restraining him snarled and brought up his knee, catching him hard in the side.

For a moment, his nerves were consumed with fire, building to a terrible crescendo that he wanted, needed to let out as a scream. Instead, his body crumpled as his vision went black and all he could hear was his heartbeat.

Fighting through the confusing haze, Kili sucked in a rasping lungful of air past his sore throat, and suddenly the world exploded with light and color as he could see again. Sluggish and suspended as he was, Kili watched the orc climb the stairs with the brand, headed for his brother.

Kili felt like he was floating, for his body and all of the horrible messages from it seemed to have disappeared. A dark, primal part of him knew why, and whispered _death_ into the ear of his soul. But he didn't listen. He couldn't listen. Not while Fili needed him.

Dakog tore off the pathetic remains of Fili's soiled tunic, exposing his bare chest as the orc baring the brand approached.

"If I can't get him," Dakog purred. "Then this is sure to."

Snatching up the brand, he didn't even give Fili a moment to steel himself before he pressed the scalding metal to his back.

For a split second, Fili was still tracking a fox through the snow with only a slight, tingling warmth against his spine. Then he was wrenched into the smoke and putrid leather and burning flesh of his surroundings as his skin burned so hot that it was cold. Something tightened in his chest, swelling and twisting until it escaped past his lips in a ragged scream.

Kili gasped at the tortured sound that clawed out of his brother, and in that moment, he could feel his legs again and remembered that he was on his knees with an orc's hand in his hair.

Blinking to clear his fuzzy vision, Kili reminded himself of where he was and what was happening. Leaning forward to antagonize the orc, he earned a yank that sent shooting, invigorating pain through his scalp and skull, waking him up further.

On the hilltop, Dis faltered in her task of filling a ceramic drinking mug with tar as her son's scream reached her ears. Thorin hastily corrected her hands, not wanting to waste any of the precious black syrup, despite the hair rising on the back of his neck.

"Oh Durin," Dis whispered, her arms shaking. "That was my boy."

Without a word, Thorin took the cup and kettle from her and finished the task.

"That was my boy," Dis repeated brokenly, clawing at her bodice and clutching her collar.

Thorin stuffed the top of the mug with moss then set it with the other four makeshift projectiles scavenged from his and Dis' trail supplies.

"Ignore it," he growled.

"How?" Dis asked, shakily unsheathing her sword. "I've already lost him before… what a cruel trick to have him returned, only to be tortured and –"

"That," Thorin snapped. "Is exactly the place you cannot let your mind go."

Thorin shoved Kili's quiver and bow, which he had found at the base of another pine, knotted with twine, oddly enough, into his sister's arms. While she wouldn't have ever been his first choice to take on such a mission as this, she was all he had, and he had been grateful for the help when she arrived. Now, though, her inexperience was showing. Or rather, he reminded himself, she was voicing what he was too afraid to.

"Keep yourself together," he said, untying Zharr. "You're not at home. You can't shut yourself in your room and abandon me to nurse Kili back from the brink of death because you're too weak to face it."

Dis narrowed her eyes, sneering. "I didn't abandon you –"

"You all-but abandoned _him_."

"I am here, aren't I?" she snapped, and as Thorin turned around to face her, he saw the fire glinting in her eyes. She was no longer shaking and looked ready to tear his arms off. Good. Then the antagonism had served its purpose in anchoring her to the here and now.

Thorin inclined his head. "That hatred you feel – that grief and anger – harness it. Use it. It isn't your enemy. It will be the surest guide of your arrows." He looked at the quiver in her hands before mounting his pony.

Dis stiffly nodded, hugging the weapons to her chest. Thorin held out a hand and Dis handed the makeshift jars of tar up to him. He carefully tucked them into his nearest saddlebag then looked to the approaching dawn.

Locking eyes with his sister again, he softened his gaze. "Dis?"

Her blue eyes met his, her shoulders square.

"You know I cannot guarantee anything, but we're doing all we can."

"I know," she said quietly, and her voice was much steadier. "They'd be dead before I could ride back with help."

Thorin nodded then gathered up his reins. "At my signal."

Dis inclined her head and slung the quiver over her shoulder, her jaw set, even as Fili screamed again, his cry echoing across the plains like a wolf yowl.

Kili couldn't stifle his own whimper and wanted to crumple into the ground at the sound of his brother in such agony as the brand was pressed to Fili's back again. The orcs may be torturing his brother's body instead of his, but they were still tearing holes in Kili's soul.

"Stop," Kili whispered.

He could see Fili up on the wall, his shoulders heaving as he growled with each breath, fighting to hide the pain as best he could. But it wouldn't be enough. Kili knew from his own pain that courage was never enough.

He couldn't save his brother, and that realization made him weaker than he'd ever been in his life. But he could help him by using the only thing left undamaged.

"Land of bear and land of eagle," Kili rasped out, but his throat was dry, and he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs to make his voice heard. So he straightened, leaning back against the legs of the orc, and tried again. This time, his voice rang out, haunting and clear.

" _Land of bear and land of eagle,  
Land that gave us birth and blessing_."

The orc restraining Kili growled in warning but didn't attempt to shut him up, perhaps because it was still afraid to place its hand so near the "mad dwarf's" mouth.

Fili stiffened as the song reached him from behind, and though he knew it to be a male voice, he couldn't help but remember his mother singing the song on quiet spring nights around the fire. He closed his eyes, latching onto the tune with every ounce of his consciousness, desperately seeking an escape from the melted skin on his back.

" _Land that calls us ever homewards."_

Fili mouthed the words, realizing the obvious with a jolt: his brother was singing to him.

" _We will go home to the Lonely Mountain."_

Kili paused for a breath, the wind tousling the free strands of his hair across his sweaty face as he peered up at his brother, searching for any sign that he had heard him.

Dakog sneered down at Kili, growling lowly and pressing the brand against Fili's back again as Kili's voice rang out the chorus.

" _We will go home, we will go home,_  
 _We will go home to the Lonely Mountain._  
 _We will go home to sing our songs,_  
 _We will go home to the Lonely Mountain_."

To Dakog's surprise, though he held the brand against the fair dwarf for longer than before, Fili only let out a hiss as his lips moved silently with the words of the song.

Dakog growled. "Stop that racket!"

Kili narrowed his eyes and raised his voice as loud as he could.

" _Land of freedom and land of heroes,  
Land that gave us hope and memories."_

His voice was joined by another, hoarser one as Fili joined in.

" _Hear our singing, hear our longing,  
We will go home to the Lonely Mountain,"_ the brothers sang in unison, and upon hearing his brother's voice, Kili's grew all the stronger.

" _We will go home, we will go home,  
We will go home to the Lonely Mountain."_

Dakog pressed the brand against Fili's back again, and in response, the dwarf's voice grew stronger.

The orcs were silent in the face of the brothers' unison, and even the orc restraining Kili hardly dared to breathe, for it seemed to the foul-minded creatures that in singing, the young dwarves were weaving a protective spell over each other.

" _We will go home to sing our songs,  
We will go home to the Lonely Mountain."_

Dakog pressed the brand against Fili again and again, but it no longer elicited a reaction from the dwarf, who opened his eyes and met Dakog's green gaze, smiling faintly as he sucked in a lungful of air, belting out the lyrics. He and Kili's voices melded as one.

" _Land of sun and land of moonlight,_  
 _Land that gave us joy and sorrow,_  
 _Land that gave us love and laughter,_  
 _We will go home to the Lonely Mountain_."

Dis paused where she crept amid the grass in the dawn, allowing herself a moment to take in the goosebumps rippling her skin at the sound of her sons' strong voices.

Thorin was close enough to the fortress to make out the bodies and weapons of the orcs and bowed his head at what he heard. The melody haunted the plains, plaintive and hopeful: a song of exiles.

" _When the land is there before us,  
We have gone home to the Lonely Mountain."_

All of his kin were far from their birthplace, and this never would've happened to his nephews had they been raised safe in Erebor as they should have been. His hatred of Smaug burned in his breast hotter than dragon's fire, and he tempered and directed the heat, as he had often done, towards a far more tangible threat.

With a shout, he spurred Zharr towards the fortress.

Kili's voice faded as his brother's grew in strength, for he didn't have the air to sing anymore.

" _We will go home, we will go home,  
We will go home to the Lonely Mountain."_

Kili's body shook with each heartbeat and he swayed on his knees with every thump, the hand in his hair the only thing keeping him upright. The side of his body was wet and shaking. Though he knew his wound opening up again was a bad thing, it felt good to have it bleeding freely, washing away some of the fire.

Dakog roared, casting aside the iron when Fili once more failed to react. Hauling back his arm, he slugged Fili in the jaw, snapping the dwarf's head backwards with a spray of blood.

Fili coughed and spat as his cheek split, filling his mouth with red iron.

Dakog grinned. "Thought that would shut you up."

Fili blinked sluggishly, returning his gaze to Dakog, letting the blood drip freely from his damaged lip.

The two held each other's gaze even as a pony grunted below, followed by a war cry. Fili smiled and Dakog hissed, whipping around to peer down the wall, raising his fist to summon his subordinates.

"Oakenshield!" Dakog bellowed.

Thorin roared back in response as he galloped into view in the yellowing light of dawn.

"Cut him down!" Dakog commanded. "Cut him down!"

Something small flew out of Thorin's hand, arching through a crack in the rubble to shatter against the fortress floor. The orcs nearby dashed away from it at the explosion, and then cautiously crept forward, sniffing the air.

"It's pitch," one said, licking the black substance for confirmation. He laughed then, looking to his comrades. "It's only pitch!"

The other orcs began to laugh, even as another projectile shattered the dark, viscous liquid on the opposite wall, just missing Kili. He flinched as it shattered, but was filled with such a warm, eerie calm, as if he were on the verge of falling asleep, that he couldn't much be bothered by breaking dishware around him.

Dakog growled as Thorin screamed again, galloping in a circle around the fortress on his war pony, faster than any orc could aim. Arrow after arrow missed its mark and as he hurled another missile into the fortress, Dakog caught the scent of the substance within. _Tar_.

Shoving past the orcs holding onto Fili, Dakog roared at his subordinates below, infuriated by their stupidity.

"Fools!" Dakog bellowed, backing up to head to the stairs. "He means to set the place on –"

Something wrapped around the large orc's ankle, tripping him. Dakog fell so fast that he only just had time to register that he'd hit the ground before a boot rammed into his ribcage, sending him rolling towards the edge of the wall. He looked up just in time to see a flaming arrow reflected in the pale eyes of the fair-hired dwarf before he rammed his foot into his chest again, sending him over the edge of the wall.

Fili didn't hesitate and wrenched his elbows free of the stunned orcs restraining him. Spinning about to face them, he head-butted one then rammed his shoulder into the other, sending both falling into the heart of the fortress before facing the third with a snarl.

The third orc roared back and lunged, tackling Fili to the ground as the flaming arrow soared over the two, sticking into the dried grass of the fringes of the fortress floor, sending them up in smoke. Within moments, the flames found the speckled tar and ignited, climbing up the wall like a hungry beast, dripping fiery sweat that only spread the flames.

Upon seeing the fire, the orcs panicked and a chorus of squealing screams rent the air.

Dis smiled at the horrified sounds echoing out of the fortress then ignited another tar-tipped arrow before knocking it. Calming her breathing, she took aim at one of the points she and Thorin had singled out, then fired.

The orc on top of Fili withdrew a rusted blade and the dwarf rolled, tipping the beast off of him and over the wall, into the flames of the fortress below.

The orc restraining Kili let go and tripped over him as he tried to flee. The fall coughed air out of Kili's lungs, but as he landed closer to the flames, he thought of how good they felt, and how cold he must be to find their warmth so comforting.

Lifting his head, he watched as the orc who had restrained him got to his feet and scurried to the exit with a pack of others… only to be crushed by a massive stone as the piece of rubble fell, blocking the escape. In the flickering light of the flames, he thought he saw his uncle's face retreating into the shadows above the former exit.

Dakog's warg snapped and snarled, its tail between its legs as it whipped its head from side to side as the fire spread, encroaching upon its dais.

Fili growled when his burned back protested his movement as he sat up. Fumbling with the discarded blade, he braced the hilt between his knees then managed to saw the ropes on his hands until he was free. Rising shakily, he was forced to take several breaths to fight off his dizziness enough to see.

Below him was chaos.

The orcs swarmed and swelled like a flock of blackbirds as they threw themselves at every possible exit, trying to force a way out. Several caught on fire after falling into the flames, and their comrades did nothing to help them. Fili looked to the way he'd been brought into the fortress and saw the source of the loud thud he had heard moments before: a large piece of rubble blocked the path.

Smoke stung his eyes as the wind shifted, yet through it, on the opposite wall, was a climbing shape. It gained its feet and straightened, and Fili grinned, for he'd know that silhouette anywhere.

"Thorin!"

Thorin locked eyes with him across the flames, and even through the smoke, Fili could see his uncle's war-mask falter as he let out a cry of joy.

There was a crash below as one of the makeshift wooden supports for the fortress collapsed in a flurry of sparks. The movement caught Fili's attention and he hastily scanned the fortress floor, wincing against the smoke and the frigid agony of his back as he hunted for his little brother.

Spotting a soiled blue cloak, Fili spied Kili, crumpled on the ground against a wall, seemingly unconscious.

"Kili!" he bellowed, but his brother didn't stir.

"Fili," Thorin shouted across the way, motioning to him. "To me!"

Fili nodded, keeping the knife in his hand as he headed for the stairs.

Thorin's outburst hadn't gone unnoticed, and several desperate orcs began to scale the rubble-strewn stairs, trying to get to Thorin, for the dwarf stood on the shallowest portion of wall which was the easiest way out.

Shifting his sweaty grip on his hammer, Thorin readied to face the orcs. To his surprise, the first lunged, but not at him. The creature flung himself towards the edge of the wall, only to be cut down by a swift hammer blow to the shoulder. Thorin shifted his grip and brought the hammer down again, breaking the orc's spine.

With a roar, he spun about to face the next orc, then the next, cutting down each in turn as they fought tried to escape the inferno.

One orc on the fortress floor saw his comrades breaking before the Oakenshield. Scrambling, he squeezed himself through a crack, pinching and tearing his skin until he wiggled through and stumbled out onto the cool air of the outside world… only to spy yet another dwarf. It was in the grass, not five yards off. With a sniff, he realized that it was a female. Easy prey, no doubt.

Withdrawing his sword, the orc crept up behind the she-dwarf.

Fili limped his way down the steps, groaning as each one made the skin on his back feel like it was tearing a little more. He braced his hand against the wall, attempting to take some of the strain off his burns but to no avail. Dizziness swept over him once more and he screwed his eyes shut. Now was not the time to falter. He had to get to his brother. He had to get to Thorin.

Thorin cut down a fifth orc, his arms and chest burning from the effort, smoke stinging his lungs. Even as he fought the creature, he could see Fili in his peripheral vision, making his way down the stairs. But his nephew's progress was slow and halting, and the thought that these swine had so wounded him gave Thorin renewed strength.

Kili closed his eyes, thinking that he was drifting on a sluggish river. His mind split into two. One half registered the screaming orcs, stamping feet, and heat that glowed around him. But the other half, the soothing half, bathed him in water and reminded him that those sights and sounds were actually far away and nothing to be troubled about. Nothing to be troubled about…

Dis smelled the orc before she saw it. Stiffening, she noted just how sweaty her palm was on the hilt of her sword. Waiting until she could hear the creature's breathing, she whirled around with a sneer, her blade before her.

The orc seemed surprised but squealed and charged nevertheless.

Dis stumbled backwards, her eyes on the blade aimed at her belly. Then she thought of Kili's arrow wound and Fili's screams, and knew that this orc could have had a hand in it all. Reversing her steps, she braced her blade and charged the orc.

The creature was so surprised that it nearly stumbled when she sank her sword up to the hilt in his flesh. His yellow eyes blinked owlishly into her steely blue, and she didn't flinch, even as the orc's rusted blade left a thin cut on her bicep. She yanked the sword out of his chest with a grunt, watching with satisfaction as the reptilian creature crumpled at her feet.

Stumbling backwards, she turned her sword over in the dawn light, eyeing the black blood smeared on its blade. She had never killed anything bigger than a varmint before. While a part of her was afraid of the power she felt at ending a life, the voice that was loudest pulsed like a drum in her skull as she thought of her sons: _Again. Again. Again!_

Looking up at the wall her brother defended, she sheathed her sword and began to climb.

"Kili," Fili gasped, falling to his knees beside his brother as ash rained on them like snow. Blood slicked Kili's side, running down his leg, and Fili choked a little at the sight of it. He ran his hand through his brother's damp hair, bending as low over him as he dared stretch the burns on his back. The orcs screamed and scrambled around them but were so overcome by their primal panic that they paid their two prisoners no heed.

Despite his muscles and blood and brain crooning at him to succumb and sleep, Kili feared the ancient darkness that beckoned to him, for he instinctively knew that once he gave in, he would never feel the sun again. His brother's voice echoed, bouncing against the quiet corners of his soul. Kili latched onto it with everything he had.

Fili gently shook his brother's shoulder, calling his name again. To his immense relief, Kili opened his eyes and blinked sluggishly. Fili's mouth split into a grin and he cradled his brother's head to his chest as he released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Relief flooded him with rejuvenating vigor.

Kili's eyes searched Fili's face for a moment before his pupils contracted as he recognized him, a small smile curling his lips. The darkness still whispered to him, but here was his brother, alive and well, and oh, so happy. He parted his lips to try to say Fili's name, but the darkness seemed to have stolen his voice.

"It's time to go home," Fili whispered, gripping his Kili's hand. "All you have to do is get up. Can you do that for me?"

_I would do anything for you_ , Kili wanted to answer, but all he could manage was a nod.

Slipping an arm beneath Kili's shoulders, Fili gently helped his brother sit up then, gritting his teeth as his burns erupted like stabbing knives, he rose, bearing both of their weight. Kili's knees buckled as his world blacked out for a moment, and despite letting out a groan, Fili didn't let go.

"Wake up," Fili barked, jostling his brother. "Stay with me."

Kili sucked in a lungful of air then coughed when half of it was smoke. Fili watched him carefully, making sure he was breathing fine before glancing around at the locations of the orcs and the largest fires before all-but dragging his brother towards Thorin. The few orcs yet to succumb to the smoke seemed to have flocked to his uncle.

"Talk to me, Kili," Fili said, stumbling his way to the stairwell.

Kili took a breath to reply but his chest was cold because the darkness was still there, waiting, and it had stolen his words. So he placed his heel harder into the dirt, trying to bear more of his weight as his brother quaked and strained beneath his arm.

Fili cast his silent brother a worried look, sweat beading on his brow. More than the silence, he didn't like the fevered flush to his brother's cheeks, nor the glassy look in his eyes, as if he were only half there.

"We will go home," Fili chanted under his breath, approaching the stairwell that was strewn with bodies. "We will go home…" He peered up at Thorin who was too busy battling several orcs to help him. "Home."

Kili focused on his brother's voice, his step faltering as they began to navigate the stairs.

Yellow hair caught Thorin's eye, and his second of distraction cost him. The orc he was facing down plunged his sword into the dwarf's bicep, causing him to cry out and stumble. The other two orcs flanking him each let out triumphant cries and advanced… only to be cut down from behind as a blade sliced in a wide arc, cutting into both of their backs.

Recovering, Thorin recognized Dis wielding her blade, slowing after the spin she had launched herself into. The orc that had stabbed Thorin raised his sword to strike again, only to have his blow parried by the exiled king. Gritting his teeth, Thorin shoved against the taller beings' sword, blood flowing freely from his bicep. With a roar, he toppled the orc over then didn't hesitate in delivering the killing blow.

A sword blade stuck into the orc's heart for good measure, and Thorin met Dis' gaze. Her regal features were haloed by the hair that had come loose from her braids, her face stained with soot and orc blood. Thorin hastily scanned her, making sure his little sister wasn't injured anywhere before he straightened.

"You need to bind that," Dis said, yanking her sword out of the corpse and nodding to Thorin's arm.

Thorin merely glanced at his injury then returned his attention to his nephews, who had only managed to make it halfway up the stairs despite their best efforts.

"Fili," he gasped, "Kili."

Dis' eyes widened before she spun about to face her sons, a cry of joy mingled with anguish wrenching from her throat as she took in their battered bodies.

Fili's face went blank with shock as he realized his mother was standing on the stairway before him. "Mum…"

"Oh, Fili!" She dashed towards the stairs, running to her sons, only to be knocked to the wayside by Dakog.


	15. Inferno

Dis struck the wall, hitting the stone hard enough to be stunned into stillness.

"Dis!" Thorin shouted, raising his war hammer as Dakog turned to face him with a wicked smile, blood trailing down the side of his head from his previous fall.

"Mum!" Fili yelled, lunging to clear another step only to be weighted down by Kili, who seemed hardly conscious. Shifting his grip on his brother, Fili sneered at the back of the orc advancing upon his uncle. Leaning Kili against the wall, he gently untangled himself from the dark-haired dwarf.

Thorin ignored the blood streaming down his arm as he stood his ground against Dakog.

"Oakenshield," the large orc growled, raising his blade. "We meet at last. What a disappointment. You're not much more than the runt, are you?"

Thorin resisted the temptation to dart his eyes to Kili, focusing instead on staying alive long enough to get his family out of harm's way.

"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Thorin growled.

"My Master sends his regards," Dakog snarled then lunged, arcing his blade down with such strength that Thorin was forced onto one knee when blocking the blow with the haft of his hammer.

Dakog laughed then raised his sword to swing again. Thorin scrambled to his feet, scuffling backwards, his mind racing for some sort of strategy against so strong an opponent. The blood running down his arm had smeared onto his palm, making his grip on the hammer slippery.

The air whined around Dakog's blade as he swung at Thorin's neck. The exiled king dropped to his knees, the metal swishing past above him, close enough to tug on some of the hairs on his head. Without giving the orc a moment to recover, Thorin drove his hammer upwards, rising to his feet with the momentum. The back of his hammer collided with Dakog's elbow with a satisfying crack.

Roaring, Dakog dropped his sword, curling his injured limb in to his chest.

Thorin snarled, raising his hammer to strike again when Dakog swung his good arm, backhanding the dwarf so hard that he toppled over. Thorin's hammer skidded over the side of the wall.

"No," Thorin gasped.

Dakog leered over him, his yellowed teeth bared and his green eyes glinting in the growing light. "For that, I will devour your whelps, limb by limb."

Thorin's hair blew across his face in a gust of wind as he tried to drag himself backwards, only to be stopped by bodies of the dead he'd killed. Dakog chuckled, a hideous gurgle, then suddenly wheezed and took a step forward as a silver tip peeked out of his chest.

"They're _my_ sons," Dis snarled, yanking the blade out of the orc. Dakog staggered, nearly losing his balance as he turned to face her.

Dis glared up at him, her face streaked with blood and soot, her greying braids jumbled, combining to lend her an appearance strikingly similar to that of her king.

Her upper lip curled as she readied her sword again. "And you will _not_ touch them ever again."

With that, she rammed the blade deep into Dakog's neck, and the orc stared at her with wide eyes and spat out blood. With one well-placed kick, Dis sent the fiend tumbling back into the flames of the fortress below.

Returning her attention to her brother, she found Thorin gazing up at her with relief and awe. He gave her a small nod of thanks before a voice from behind distracted her.

"Mum!"

Dis whipped around to find Fili limping towards her, bruising and filthy, but more alive than she ever thought she'd see him again. Her eyes welled with tears and she held a hand over her quivering mouth.

"Oh my boy," she gasped, taking a step over to him. "Oh, my wonderful boy." She enveloped him in a hug, one hand on the back of his head as she pulled him into her embrace, a sob escaping. "I'm about to burst!"

Fili chuckled, sniffling, surprised that he was shedding tears, as well, for now that he was in his mother's arms, all felt right in the world.

Rising to his feet, Thorin pressed a hand against his bleeding wound, looking past his sister and her eldest to spot Kili on the stairwell.

The lad was standing, leaning on the wall for support on one side, using a discarded orc blade for help on the other, and watching the reunion with a wistful smile on his face. But despite the light in his eyes, the lad looked pale enough to be at death's door, so Thorin started for him.

A snarl echoed from below in the makeshift cell that used to house the two youngest heirs of Durin, and Dakog's warg stalked out of where it had hidden from the flames. The warg pounced on one of the surviving orcs, tearing out its throat before sniffing the air and looking up above, its yellow eyes latching onto its master's killers.

"Dis!" Thorin bellowed as the warg snarled at the trio. Dis let get of Fili and followed Thorin's gaze, squawking at the sight of the warg, instinctively yanking Fili away from the edge of the wall.

The warg leapt and snapped its jaws but was unable to reach its prey. Turning its attention to the stairs, it slinked through pools of fire, heading for the only way up.

"Kili!" Dis called, reaching a hand out for her youngest even while holding onto Fili's shoulder, afraid to let him go.

"Jump!" Thorin bellowed at the two, knowing that the fall to the outside world was a risk his family would have to take to live.

"Kili!" Fili called, taking a stumbling step towards his brother yards away on the stairs as the warg reached the bottom. The creature growled as it looked up at its prey, its grey, scorched coat visible in the quickly-growing light of dawn.

Kili's blood was rushing past his ears in a torrent so loud that he could hardly hear the voices around him. The smoke seemed to have burnt out his nose, for he stopped being able to smell long ago. The darkness that he had so far held at bay was taking out his senses, one by one, until he would be left naked and defenseless with no choice but to take the plunge into the void.

Looking down at the warg, Kili knew he couldn't let go yet. Not while there was still something he could do to help his brother and all he loved in the world escape.

Yanking the rusted blade out of the stones he'd wedged it between, Kili raised the sword level with his hip, his good hand clutched tight around the hilt. Inching his shoulder upwards against the stone wall, he uncurled until he was straight, then turned to look over his shoulder at his brother one last time.

Fili started to smile when his brother's eyes met his and he saw how clear and focused they were. But his faint grin faded and his lungs chilled with frost when he realized that his brother was looking at him with an eerie expression he'd never seen before.

Kili's coal-dark eyes reflected the orange of the falling embers, his hair fluttering about his face amidst the swirling ash as he locked eyes with his other half. He pressed his lips together, his face pale even through the bruises and grime, and his gaze was so heart wrenchingly apologetic that with a rush of horror, Fili realized that his little brother was silently saying goodbye.

Time seemed to slow and Fili knew that so long as he lived, he would never, ever forget this moment.

"Kili!" he screamed, but his brother was already turning to face the warg, straightening away from the wall to stand on his own two feet, blood darkening his side, as the creature crouched several steps below, readying to leap to the top.

The soiled, tattered blue cloak whipped about Kili in the wind as he braced his elbows against his good hip, raising the sword.

The warg leaped, its maw open wide and its front paws outstretched. Kili leaped off of his stair, colliding with the warg in midair. The blade sank into the warg's belly, and the animal crashed down on top of Kili.

Fili was dimly aware of his mother screaming and of Thorin's rough hand pushing him towards the outside of the wall as the king surged past. His mother let go of his shoulder and Fili tripped over his own feet, stumbling from his uncle's shove.

The last image he had was of his brother struggling to free his arms from under the warg while the animal lifted its head and opened its jaws, lunging for Kili's throat.

* * *

**One Month Later**

Fili tossed in bed, chained to a dream where Kili was looking over his shoulder at him, his eyes so dark and sad as all the world burned around him. The warg was crouching yards below, and Kili was readying his sword. No matter how Fili screamed, no matter how fast he ran to stop it all from happening again, Fili failed. The warg's jaws opened wide and sank into his brother's flesh, as if he was nothing, instead of the most precious thing in the world.

Jolting awake, Fili let the damp sheets fall off of his shirtless frame as he sat up, wincing as the new skin of his burn scars tightened and tugged.

Light was on the sill and the birds were singing outside. Taking a moment to gaze out into the early morning through his window, Fili caught his breath. He was home. In his room. Far from orcs.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before exhaling it through his nose. _Kili…_

He'd had this dream before. More times than he could count. Each time, his mind seemed to play the images in a savage dance, as if delighting in his pain.

_Enough_.

Kicking off the covers, Fili rose and padded out of his room. He opened the door and stepped down the hall, pausing as he rested his hand on the lever to Kili's room. He already knew what he would find there, but the habit of going into his brother's room first thing in the morning was too strong to break. Not so soon, at least.

Opening the door, he peered in at the expected empty bed. His eyes slid over his brother's few belongings, all untouched for so long, his heart heavy.

A chill coursed over his skin as his sweat dried. He needed to go out in the sun. Closing the door, he turned to pass through the main room.

His mother was sitting in a rocking chair before the fire, humming and hugging something to her chest, her gaze distant. His bare feet were quiet as he headed for the door, but he paused when his mother's humming slipped into a song.

" _Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku  
Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_

_Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love_  
 _Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird…_ "

Peering around her side, he realized that the object she was hugging and rocking was Kili's cloak.

_Enough_.

Fili quietly opened the door and slipped outside.

The morning air was young and fresh with the scent of mist lingering in the shade. Spotting a patch of sunlight on a boulder at the back of the house, Fili made his way over. He climbed onto the rock then sat down, hugging his knees to his bare chest as he watched the ponies eat their breakfast.

Buttercup and Tristan nipped at each other's faces whenever one got too close to the other's patch of hay, while Zharr, separated in his own stall, ate at his leisure, watching the other two ponies as if they were his entertainment.

Smiling a little, Fili rested his chin on his knees. He really ought to put a tunic on, he realized as his skin rippled in goosebumps. But he'd gotten used to sleeping without one while his burns healed.

Smoke from the cook fire drafted over him and Fili closed his eyes, for the scent reminded him of the terrible inferno. He'd already thought about it enough today and wished he could banish the images from his brain.

After the battle, Thorin had stacked the bodies around the fortress. Dakog's corpse was intact, so the exiled king had stuck his head on a pole in front of the scorched walls. Whoever the fiend's "Master" was must've arrived to quite the surprise. Some pathetic orc trying to pick up where the White Orc had left off, no doubt.

"Nephew," came a deep voice from his side, and Fili opened his eyes to spot Thorin making his way over, filling his pipe. "Fine morning."

"It is," Fili quietly replied.

Thorin looked over his heir's disheveled appearance. "More nightmares?"

Fili peered out at the pasture, focusing on the steam rising from the grass as the dew evaporated in the sun. He nodded.

"About Kili?"

Fili closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale. _Enough_ , he scolded himself, but somehow his own chastising wasn't working.

Thorin closed the distance between them and rested his hand on Fili's shoulder, giving it a squeeze then leaving it there as he puffed on his pipe. Several chickadees argued in the oak to their right, and Fili let his mind drift on their melodic sound, realizing that he was tired and hadn't slept as well as he'd hoped. He never did these days.

"Fili," Thorin began. "It is not for you to feel guilt. Your brother made his choice."

"That's just it," Fili said, lifting his chin off his knees. "I never told you." He looked to his uncle and didn't even bother to try to mask his tears. "When he found me, when we were imprisoned together… he made me promise that I would escape if ever I could, even if that meant without him."

Thorin let out a deep breath, holding his nephew's blue gaze.

"I keep replaying that conversation in my mind… and I just hate that I was born first. That I'm your heir." Fili wiped at his cheeks as his voice broke. "No – I don't mean it like that, Thorin."

Thorin shook his head. "Please, say your piece."

"It's just that… it's not something that's a part of me. Yet it has ruined everything. Those orcs that attacked us to begin with – they _knew_. That's why I was targeted. Even then, Dakog ordered his warriors to kill my brother. Like he was worthless." A sob escaped and Fili tightened his arms around his knees. "And then Kili had to go and sacrifice himself for me… because he thought the order of our birth made me so much more important than him when it's not true. Not remotely."

The older dwarf eyed Fili for a long moment, giving his shoulder another squeeze as Fili sobbed freely.

"Do you really think he would've done anything different had your birth order been reversed?" he asked.

Fili quieted enough to listen. "What?"

"Had Kili been the elder, and thus my heir, do you really think anything would have changed?"

"Of course it would have," Fili whimpered, wiping at his cheeks. "He would've been the one taken, not I. And…"

"And nothing would be different." Thorin released his shoulder to stand before him, the morning light giving a golden tip to his hair. "Kili made the choices he did because you are his brother, not because you're the heir to a forsaken kingdom. He did a reckless, desperate thing because of his love for you. That simple."

Sniffling, Fili let his uncle's words worm their way into his heart and mind, slowly accepting them.

"I still wish that I had done more that day."

Thorin sighed, his voice grim. "We all do, lad. We all do."

* * *

The door to the cabin creaked open as Kili peeked his head in, scanning the room to see if he was alone before stepping inside. Hanging up his quiver then unstringing his bow before hanging it up as well, he made a beeline for his room only to have his mother's voice stop him.

"I'd think you were a ghost if I didn't know better."

Wincing, Kili froze. So much for sneaking back in.

Dis rose from the rocking chair by the fire where she had been slouched so low that he couldn't see her. She smiled as she held up his blue cloak. "The mending's done. Good as new, now."

She held the stained fabric out to him and Kili eyed it warily. "I don't want it."

"It's perfectly fine," Dis insisted, taking a step towards him only to have Kili stalk away into his room, slamming the door.

Dis sighed, hugging the cloak to her chest. Her jaw quivered when she once again faced the horrible thought that this might be the new normal.

She had both of her sons back, yes, but neither was whole.


	16. Bluebird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We come to it at last... thank you so much for reading!

Kili closed the door to his room, leaning his back up against the wood and closing his eyes for a moment. The hurt and lack of understanding on his mother's face as she tried to give him the cloak made his chest clench and his throat tighten. He ought to go back out and apologize. She was trying to do something kind for him and here he was, shunning her, hurting her again and again.

Crossing over to his bed, he sat down. The morning light cast cheer around the room, and with a sinking heart, he realized just how early it still was. He'd awoken at the crack of dawn and snuck out, as he so often did, to avoid waking to his family's concerned gazes. And Fili… Fili watched him with such sorrow in his eyes that Kili couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

His ribs that had broken under the warg's weight ached, and as he slipped a hand under his tunic to rest on them, his fingers brushed over the jagged, scarring tissue at his side.

His dreams were different each night, but most contained some element of the burning fortress. Intellectually, he knew that he had stabbed the warg, and that Thorin had bashed in its skull at the last moment, just before its jaws closed around his neck and shoulders. That his uncle hadn't stopped pounding in the beast's head until it was a white and red mash. Thorin had then carried him out of the smoke and heat, like the wounded whelp he was.

But intellect wasn't everything, and a part of him was still trapped in the burning fortress.

He had a habit of reminding himself of how he had survived – images from his own memory and those he created from Thorin's re-telling – for no matter how hard he tried, his mind was full of holes when it came to that night.

Except for what happened afterwards. That he remembered far too vividly.

A knock sounded on his door and Kili jumped, his dark eyes darting to the wood.

"Can I come in?" was Fili's hoarse voice. It sounded as if the older dwarf had been crying again, and Kili couldn't handle that. Not yet.

"I'm busy," he lied.

Fili didn't move and waited outside his door for several moments before shuffling off.

Kili closed his eyes as he heard his brother leaving. The tightness in his chest only grew and he lay down on his bed. Fili had already had to watch him battle through fever-dreams upon their return home, and didn't want to drag his brother through even more pain, for all Kili wanted to do was scream at the world.

In the main room, Thorin watched Fili shuffle back to his bedroom, his shoulders bowed. He shook his head as the fair-haired dwarf quietly closed his door, then Thorin looked to his sister, who was hanging Kili's mended cloak up on the peg beside his bow and quiver. "It's been a month."

Sighing, Dis looked to her brother. "Does your arm still pain you?"

"No… it's not my arm." His hand unconsciously reached up to cup the scar on his bicep. "It's something far more vital than my arm."

Dis' face became stony as she looked into the flames in the hearth. "We're all trying, Thorin."

"I just fear it won't be enough."

Dis closed her eyes and clutched the collar of her tunic. Thorin watched his sister, remembering when she'd started that habit as a child, and how their mother had scolded her for wrinkling her shirts. The years fell away, not that they every truly mattered to begin with – not when he was with his sister – and he saw her as the boisterous, impulsive girl she had been. Crossing over to her, he rested a hand on her shoulder then pulled her into a hug.

She clung back fiercely, resting her forehead against the crook of his neck. "He won't let me touch him," she whispered brokenly.

"He won't let any of us touch him."

"I thought everything would be all right," she whimpered in a whisper. "Once we were home and safe and he was on the mend, I thought we could heal and share laughter again. But there is something so wrong in him – something so broken. And now he's breaking Fili."

Thorin rubbed her back, his own throat tightening at her words.

"His eyes are so cold… the only time he looks like my boy is when he sleeps. And even then, I'm terrified to touch him. He's fragile… I fear he might shatter."

Thorin mulled over his sister's thoughts for a few moments before speaking, and she could feel his voice vibrating in his throat. "Battles change even the best of us. Sometimes warriors are left with sickness… sickness in the mind."

Dis shook her head then pulled away, wiping at her cheeks. "Fili doesn't have it."

Thorin offered her a bittersweet smile. "Perhaps then, it is just the remnants of his second fever. They are known to alter survivors, and in all my years, I've never seen anyone live through such fire in their veins. Who knows what he saw in his dreams."

"Because of what we did," Dis whispered, looking away from Thorin and closing her eyes.

Thorin sighed. "We saved him, sister."

Dis shook her head. "If that were true… then he wouldn't flinch at my touch."

Thorin's eyes drifted to the floorboards. A part him held onto the hope that if he could just talk some sense into Kili again like he had when they thought Fili was gone, then he'd have a chance. That he could coax the resilience he so admired out into being once more.

But it was all he could do to get his youngest nephew to meet his gaze, and truth be told… Thorin was afraid of talking to him.

* * *

The dinner table was quiet save for the scraping of dishes and hiss and snap of the fire in the hearth. Dis and Thorin were nearly finished with their stew, but Fili had only eaten half, and Kili seemed to think he could get away with stirring his around his bowl without having a bite.

"It's very good," Dis complimented her brother.

The pair watched Fili take a half-hearted bite in response while Kili ignored them.

Sighing, Dis set down her spoon. "Kili, you are being rude. Your uncle worked very hard to make this for us."

Kili's dark eyes flicked up from his bowl and Thorin smiled. "It's my famous Wilderness Stew. Though for it to be proper, you must be soaked and starving in the woods. Always tastes better that way." He chuckled, earning a smile from Fili.

But Kili was looking at him as if he wanted to squash him under the heel of his boot.

Thorin's smile faded, for the expression on his youngest nephew's face was so dark and unlike the lad he knew that it made the food in his belly sour.

Scooting his chair back, Kili rose and stalked from the room, slamming his door shut behind him. Fili clenched his jaw, meeting his mother's gaze with a tortured look, as if asking if Kili would ever stop burning down the world with his eyes.

Seeing the anguish in her eldest's gaze, and the timid way her brother was now prodding his stew, made something snap in Dis. They had tiptoed on eggshells around her volatile youngest long enough when they ought to be steering him, by force, if necessary. She rose and slammed her napkin down on the table before striding to the hall.

The door to Kili's room was yanked open without so much as a knock and he whipped around to face his mother as she shut it behind her. Her eyes were livid. He hadn't seen that look on her face for years, for it had only surfaced in the past when he or Fili had accidentally-on-purpose hurt each other.

"Sit. Down."

Kili didn't budge so his mother took a step towards him and pointed to the bed.

"I said sit down."

Hesitating, Kili did as he was asked and eased onto the edge of the mattress.

She took a step towards him, swinging her arm up to fold it over her chest, and in the brief moment that her motion caught his eye, he started to lean back, as if thinking she was going to strike him. Her heart clenched as fear flickered on his face and the brooding dwarf was gone. Despite the fading purple scar on his neck and the ghost of bruises on his face, for that brief moment, her little one was back, and he wasn't angry – he was afraid.

As soon as he saw her cross her arms, however, his eyebrows frowned and he looked away, his hair falling in his face, and her boy was gone.

"Kili."

He picked at the cuff of his tunic sleeve.

"Kili, look at me."

Sighing, he stopped fidgeting and looked up at his mother.

"You are being ridiculously rude to your uncle," she scolded, moving to stand directly before him. "As you have been again and again. Need I remind you that he is more than kin? That he is your king?"

Kili snorted, looking away.

"I said look at me," Dis growled.

Kili whipped his head back around. "Yes, your highness."

Dis' lips parted at the mockery in his tone and her arms fell to the side. "How dare you."

"How dare I?" he asked, raising his brows. "You come in here and start barking orders then try to pull rank with uncle and you still have the gall to scold me? As if I've done something wrong? As if I wasn't the only one who went after –" Kili paused as his voice broke. He hadn't said so much all at once since the darkness stole his voice in the fortress, and by the impressed look on his mother's face, he wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Dis couldn't help but smile faintly. "It's good to hear your voice."

Scoffing, Kili rose and stalked to the window, looking up at the rising moon.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Dis asked, wanting to follow him across the room but knowing the tension in his shoulders warned that she shouldn't. Sometimes he reminded her of a bird with a damaged wing, panicking when cornered and trying to fly away, only to fall to the ground. A bluebird. Her bluebird.

"I have nothing to say," he muttered, shifting so that his back was completely to her as he picked at the bark of the rough-hewn log sill.

Dis sighed, her anger at him over dinner fading. "I don't know what I've done to make you treat me like this, but at least talk to your brother."

Kili's upper lip curled slightly, his chest filling with unshed tears as words welled up within him. Words that needed to come out but that he daren't utter, for they were from the darkness, and saying them might reveal that he was just a ghost of his former self.

"You're breaking his heart," Dis offered before heading for the door. Her hand was on the lever when Kili made a soft sound, drawing her attention back to him.

"You didn't do anything," he whispered, leaning his temple against the window frame. Dis stepped cautiously forward, afraid she'd startle him into flight. "Only…" He closed his eyes. "Why did you save me? Why did you put me through all that if you never even wanted me?"

He looked to her then, half of his face bathed in silver moonlight, the other in shadows, and his eyes were no longer cold or detached, but instead looked as raw as wounds.

Dis shook her head, the air disappearing in her chest, replaced by cold mist as his words and the confused pain on his face gutted her. She took a step over to him and Kili looked away, his eyes shimmering in the moonlight as he focused on the outside world. But though he tensed, he allowed his mother to approach his side, close enough to touch him if she wished.

"Why, in all of Arda, would you ever, _ever_ think that?" she asked, her voice hitching.

He picked at the sill once more before swallowing down his emotions, his eyes clearing of their tears.

"Kili?"

"You held me down," he whispered. "You covered my mouth."

Dis clutched her collar. "So any surviving orcs couldn't hear your cries."

"But I couldn't breathe," he whispered in such a rush that she almost couldn't understand him. "And I couldn't move. You were all holding me down and I couldn't move. It was like you were…"

Dis clenched her jaw, watching the way his face twitched as he spoke, looking so unlike her child, and she realized that somewhere along the way, he had shed his baby fat and was growing up.

"And then Thorin…"

He faltered and Dis let out a shuddering breath. Once they had escaped the fortress, Kili was too weak to even sit on a pony, and Thorin feared the infection had poisoned his blood.

In a last ditch effort to save him, Thorin had heated the tip of Dis' blade then had the other two restrain Kili as he pressed the scalding metal into his wound. They had hoped Kili was close enough to unconsciousness to be pushed over the edge and pass out without bearing the brunt of the pain, but instead he had screamed and struggled. She'd had to clamp a hand over her son's mouth and pin him down with Fili while her brother burnt his flesh.

Necessary or not, it was torture. It had changed all of them.

"I know," Dis whispered, tears filling her eyes. "And I am so, so sorry, sweetheart. But it worked. You're here now."

Kili didn't look at her but instead bowed his head further, his hair falling into his face. "Your faces turned into orcs. Sometimes they still do."

Dis' breathing hitched in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to pull her youngest to her in a hug and never let go, but his body was screaming at her that she was already too close. Because she had hurt him. Like the enemy. When he had thought he was safe.

"Kili… it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And as much as I hated to cause you pain… it saved you. I pray that one day you will understand."

She started to reach out her hand to rest it on his shoulder but he somehow caught the movement through his curtain of hair and flinched. Dis recoiled her arm and shuffled backwards before heading for the door, sniffling.

"Besides, you have him back now," Kili's voice croaked and Dis looked over her shoulder to find him facing her, his eyes brimming with tears. "Isn't that all you ever wanted?"

Dis pivoted to face him, tilting her head, desperately trying to link his tortured face with his words.

"To have your firstborn home, safe and sound?" he continued. "Or else have nothing at all?"

Dis shook her head, his words fraying her soul. "Why would you say that?" she asked again.

"Because I heard _you_ say it," Kili whimpered, tears escaping as the darkness-words spilled forth from his lips, tasting like bile. No matter how he tried, he couldn't stop his word-retching now that he'd begun. "To Thorin, when I was wounded. 'I wish Kili had died,' you said. And you could've had your wish. You had your chance but you saved me anyway."

He paused to take a shuddering breath, for his voice had risen to a shout as his tears spilled out. Dis couldn't breathe, and felt more than a little faint. As if his words had sucked all of the air and light from the room. No… as if _hers_ had.

"I don't understand," he squeaked, giving in to a sob. "I don't know what it is that's so wrong about me. I've tried… I've…" He grabbed onto the sill as he curled in on himself, the sobs wracking his body nearly sending him to the floor. For now that the darkness was out, he was only ribs and sinew instead of a whole person.

Dis ran to her son, falling to her knees beside him and wrapping her arms around his broken frame, hugging him to her. Kili didn't resist and limply held her back, shaking with sobs. She closed her eyes, her own gasping breaths blending with his as she held him all the tighter, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, my poor darling," she squeaked. "My poor little bird. You've done nothing wrong."

Kili's loud sob made her think he didn't believe her.

"I never meant what I said," she insisted, "Only that I didn't want you to have to bear the agony you were in."

But the air was wrenched from her yet again as she recalled Thorin's words to her on the hilltop before the battle. _You all but abandoned him_.

She had. Hostage to her grief, she had left her brother to tend to Kili, and had him feed the boy lies that she was only resting but had been there all along. Because she hadn't had the strength to be in the room with him while they thought he might not make it. She hadn't been able to see him suffer after having already lost a son and wasn't brave enough to visit with him until she knew his fever had broken and he would recover.

But even then, even then she had not been there for him. Her heart and mind were off with Fili, reliving his birth, his first steps, the first purse he had made for her out of a rabbit pelt… Instead of grieving with her surviving son, she had turned her back on him. She _had_ abandoned him.

It was little wonder, then, that he looked so grown up now. She'd forced him to.

"I've been so selfish," she whispered into his hair which was damp with her tears. She rocked them both as she spoke, but a part of her knew there were no words in the world to erase what she had done. "You are so much stronger than I, Kili."

"No, Momma," he hiccoughed, and the way he scooted closer and tightened his grip around her, as if trying to both comfort her and hide in her embrace, broke her heart.

"Yes…. You are. And I'm so sorry that I have failed you. But I am here now."

Kili sobbed again, and her blouse above her heart was moist with his tears.

"I'm here now," she repeated, closing her eyes as she rocked him, forcing her tears to subside.

She could feel his ribcage so easily beneath her arms, and it was shaking. While Fili often astounded her with his ability to buck up and save emotions to deal with later, Kili had trouble stopping once he'd started.

"And I love you more than there are stars in the sky and waves in the sea."

"I love you, too," he whispered as best he could, though it was almost unintelligible.

She continued to comb her fingers through his hair, rocking them back and forth on the floor in a pool of moonlight. Taking a shaky breath to test her breathing, she parted her lips and sang to her bluebird until his tears subsided to hitching breaths.

" _Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku  
Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_

_Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love_   
_Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird._   
_Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now_   
_The berries shine on the old rowan tree_   
_The bird is home from the hills and valleys_

_Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_  
 _Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku_."

* * *

When neither Dis nor Kili emerged from his bedroom, Thorin quietly approached the door and listened. Both he and Fili had heard the two weeping earlier, but now it was quiet. He rapped softly at the door before easing it open, and was surprised to find Kili in bed, tucked under the covers, with his mother sitting beside him, rubbing her thumb over the back of his healed left hand.

Thorin let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and leaned against the doorway, smiling at the loving scene that he hadn't seen for so long. Too long.

Dis returned his smile then rose, kissing her son on the forehead before crossing over to her brother. "He cried himself to sleep," she whispered, the rims of her eyes red.

Thorin rested his palm on her bicep, looking her in the eye. "Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath and let it out shakily but nodded. "Yes… finally, I think we will be."

Thorin smiled. "Good."

Dis rested her hand over her brother's and squeezed before exiting the room. Thorin moved to follow her when movement caught his eye. Kili rolled over onto his side, curling up, and the blanket slid off his shoulders.

Treading as quietly as he could in his boots, Thorin crossed over to his nephew's bedside and tugged the blanket up over his shoulders. The lad had grown far too thin and would need all the warmth he could get on the cold spring night. Perhaps Fili could make him some –

"Uncle?"

Startled, Thorin looked down at his nephew to find his eyes cracked open. "Yes?"

Kili shifted his shoulders a little so that he could better see him, even if he refused to open his eyes past slits. "Thank you. For coming after me."

Thorin smiled, reaching down to squeeze Kili's hand. The lad's voice was so hoarse that he wondered how awake he was. "I always will."

Kili smiled, and the sight flooded Thorin's chest with affection. His nephew looked like himself again. There was still much good in the world.

"Now," Thorin said, brushing hair off his nephew's face. "Get some sleep."

Kili shifted back onto his side and closed his eyes, and Thorin didn't doubt that the lad would be out before he even reached the door. Then Kili's quiet voice caught him off guard again.

"I understand."

Looking over his shoulder, Thorin fixed Kili with a questioning gaze.

"Why you're quiet when others are not," Kili said, his sleep-drenched voice quiet and eerie in its honesty. "Why you get that… look in your eye, and I know you're in Erebor. Why you're angry. Why you burned me."

Thorin couldn't move if he tried, for he felt as if his soul had been pierced, and that he'd been truly seen for the first time since losing his home. He had never heard those words uttered before, and never thought he'd believe them coming from one so young. But he did. Oh, how he did.

Looking at the floorboards, Thorin realized he had no words to offer in return.

Kili sighed, shifting again, and when Thorin looked back up, his chest was rising and falling peacefully.

"Kili?"

The boy didn't respond, and Thorin wondered at how long his nephew had kept such thoughts to himself before spilling them when half in the world of dreams.

Easing the door shut behind him, Thorin closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. When he walked back down the hall, his step was lighter. He felt younger. He felt forgiven.

Later that night, when he sat alone beside the hearth, watching the dying embers glow like a dragon's heart, he thought of his kingdom. His nephews would've been safe from such terrors as they'd already lived through had they been born in the homeland. No orc horde or delusional creature thinking it could command one as Azog once did would dare touch his nephews in Erebor. He could do naught to change that now, but he could make a difference for their children.

Though it would take several years before he set out on his quest, Thorin Oakenshield decided that night that when he left to take back Erebor, his sister-sons, who had more than proven themselves, were coming with him.

* * *

Fili had spotted Kili from a distance away, lounging in the setting sun by the stream bank. But now that he approached the spot, the only sign of his brother was a flattened patch of young grass.

A piece of bark fell on the top of his head and Fili smirked, not even bothering to look up. "One of these days, Thorin is going to go into a rage over your Elven ways."

Looking up, Fili squinted in the afternoon light to spot his brother up in the boughs of the pine, high enough to not be reached. Kili studied him for a moment before smiling sheepishly.

"What – did you think I'd come to push you in?" Fili asked, resting his hands on his hips.

"I couldn't see who you were," Kili quietly replied before making his way down. Fili didn't taunt further, for he often had the same reaction. Though two months had passed since his capture, mundane still had a way of morphing into orcs and wargs, and he couldn't blame his brother for his flighty instincts.

Kili hopped out of the last branch and landed on the ground, dusting his hands off then inspecting the shallow cuts on his palms from the rough bark.

"Is this where you've been all day?" Fili asked then tousled his brother's hair before approaching the stream. "Hiding in a tree?" The thawing snow had had fattened the water-serpent.

Kili narrowed his eyes at his brother's taunt but Fili missed the look.

"Mum just got back from that trader Dwalin mentioned," Fili continued when his brother didn't answer.

"Oh?" Kili flicked his hair out of his face. "Did she decide anything?"

Fili nodded, watching the light dance on the ripples. "She's going to get a filly." He looked to his brother as Kili stepped up beside him. "That way, we can name her Daisy."

Kili followed his brother's gaze to the water, remembering the pony of the same name that they had lost the night of their attack. While no one could ever replace Daisy's gentle nicker, the thought of getting to know a new pony dampened the pain of her passing.

Tension built in Kili, and Fili sighed, for while his brother had unthawed almost to the point of living with ease, tension still reared its head whenever their ordeal was mentioned. As a result, Fili had stopped bringing it up around Kili altogether. But there was only so much he could say to his mother and uncle, for neither of them had shared in his experience like his other half had. "I still have nightmares, you know."

Kili turned to face his brother, his dark eyes concerned. "Oh… I can't even imagine… You were with them for so long."

"No, not that." In moments like this, the younger dwarf seemed loathe to make eye contact, so Fili waited until he held his brother's gaze before continuing. "I dream about the warg attacking you… killing you."

The tension doubled and Kili tried to break it with a crooked smile. "Well too bad – you're stuck with me."

He squeezed Fili's shoulder then turned to grab his bow, only to have Fili catch his sleeve, drawing his attention back to him.

"Don't ever, ever, do something like that again."

Kili furrowed his brow, his spine growing stiff. "Something like what?"

"Like making me promise to leave you for dead, then hurling yourself at a monster."

Fili paused, clenching his jaw, trying to disguise the tightness in his throat lest his brother sense his sorrow and grow taut like a bowstring, ready to snap as he'd done in the past.

Kili studied his brother's face with concern, and instead of putting distance between them, he surprised Fili by stepping closer.

"You're my entire world, Kili," Fili said quietly, then smiled a little. "Durin knows, I don't always act like it, but it's true. And I need you to know that."

Kili sighed, his expression reminding Fili of the silent, brooding shell he had become after their escape, and the thought of that ghost of Kili returning frightened him.

"Fili…" Kili began, turning his back to him, his voice somber. "Sometimes… I… worry about you."

Tightness coiled in Fili's chest. "Why?"

"Because you can be dafter than a horse-kicked dandy," Kili replied with a chuckle, spinning back around to face his brother with a smile. "Of course I know. And you damned well better know I feel the same. I only went through Mordor's fires for you, didn't I?"

Fili scoffed, but the small sound turned into a laugh as relief and love washed over him.

"And no," Kili continued, his eyes dancing. "I didn't sit here all day. I'm no Elf, no matter how much you tease." He trotted over to the base of the pine where he'd covered something with fern fronds. Brushing the foliage aside, Kili lifted up a pair of dead badgers with a grin.

"By Durin," Fili barked. "Those are half as big as you are!"

"They'd have to be to fit your hobbit feet."

Fili studied his brother with wonder for several heartbeats, his words slowly latching onto a memory in his mind. Before they were attacked, they had been out trapping, and he'd caught a fine badger he hoped to turn into a boot. He hadn't remembered until this moment, but clearly, Kili had.

Kili chucked the badgers at him without warning, and, distracted as he was, they struck Fili in the chest, knocking him over. Kili stared in shock, having never been able to bring his brother down with anything before, including logs, then dashed over and looked down at him. A giggle that quickly morphed into a cackle escaped Kili's chest as Fili glared up at him.

Hearing his brother laugh so freely made Fili's chuckle join his. As he took Kili's hand and rose, he realized just how much he had missed the way his brother's eyes crinkled to the point of disappearing as he laughed, and the sight of them doing so now made him laugh all the harder.

For the first time since they had returned, he knew he was home. And so did Kili.


End file.
